Speed the Collapse
by FreyjaBee
Summary: Jellal's cartel is in tatters. Everyone lies. Erza's morals are supposed to keep her firmly rooted on the ground. She's adrift. Laxus' world is again thrown in flux. Everyone's an enemy. Gray can't stop thinking about a woman that's not his lover. She's sweet poison. 1950's Magical AU, set in the same AU as Sweet-Rot. (Jerza, Miraxus, Graytear)
1. Chapter 1

_**Important A/N:**_ _Speed the Collapse_ is set in the same AU as _Sweet-Rot,_ which is a 1950's magical-but-also-not-really, some-have-magic-some-don't AU. It may not be _necessary_ to read _Sweet-Rot_ first, but it may help. _Jerza. Graytear. Miraxus._

Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima.

 _ **Warnings:**_ Rated **M** for graphic depictions of violence, coarse language, sexual content, substance use.

* * *

 _ **I have changed my mind. This story is for me. I am my own worst critic. My first and last judge. The jury and my own executioner.**_

 _ **I am also my best champion.**_

* * *

 _ **Speed the Collapse**_

* * *

Gin rested on Erza's tongue, both fresh and sweetened with a little bit of lemon water. She sipped the drink and knew, though she didn't meet his eye, that she was watched. He seemed particularly fascinated with her mouth, entranced with the way her lips curved on the glass and engrossed with the lipstick mark she left behind.

His gaze could only be described as indecent and the kinds of thoughts he had were clear. He looked at her in the way a fox might a mouse. Hungrily. His appetite was voracious. Everyone knew that.

Erza was no mouse. Mice didn't have single shot Kolibri's strapped to their legs underneath their emerald halter dress. Mice didn't have brass knuckles in their clutch. Mice didn't have a badge that said _Constable_.

Jellal sipped his mint julep and his many rings winked in the golden overhead light. He was almost a part of the room sitting in his dark armchair, stuffed and gilded with golden thread. His hair was slicked back beneath his charcoal brim fedora hat and the suit he wore was dark and expensive, Erza could see it in the stitch. On his feet were leather two-toned oxfords that were polished to a high sheen. Nothing about him was accidental, tone of voice included—a little bit wry, a little bit sweet, and effortless when he dragged himself away from gazing at her mouth to drawl, "I'm honored you finally graced _Halo_ with your presence."

He had a nice way of speaking, slow and thorough and he rolled his R's just a little, betraying his ethnicity. He was secretive about his heritage, though, and wouldn't say exactly where he was from, only that it was far away.

Because Erza didn't know much about Jellal Fernandez, she picked him apart where she could. Men weren't enigmatic, though they wanted you to think that they were, her mother had taught her that at a young age and it was something that she'd held on to. Jellal, though, he made a good play at it. What was there to know, he'd asked her once.

She wanted to know every little thing. A good constable should be familiar with their enemy.

The things she knew for certain were few. Jellal owned and operated a restaurant that doubled as a speakeasy of sorts. Alcohol had been legal for a lot of years but to get into _Halo's_ private room, one needed a connection and a password and the grace of its owner before they could slip in through the secret door in the back. He loved his Corvette. He loved the colour red. He loved to tease her. Maybe teasing wasn't the right word. He loved to try to charm her and Erza loved to deny him.

The things she didn't know for certain were more numerable and more serious by half.

First and foremost on this list was if his weapons dealing to the Magnolia gangs was simply rumor or not. Erza leaned on the side of not. He was rich. The kind of rich that came from doing bad things. And was he capable? Yes, she believed so. Wondering about his integrity wouldn't keep her up at night.

He was crooked even if she couldn't prove it.

Would anyone listen to her if she could gather the evidence she needed to take him down, though? He had connections to the police and to the government. Erza couldn't say how far those connections went but knew it was far enough. He was the reason she was the Magnolia Police Department's very first female constable, after all. She didn't know what buttons he pressed to get them to consider her application but he'd pressed them and she had the chance to prove herself.

She was reluctantly grateful, there wasn't much good about being in debt to a man like Mister Fernandez, but there wasn't anything she'd rather be doing. She was born for the law.

"Have you given more thought to my offer?" Jellal asked like he had read her mind.

"It's a very generous offer." She didn't have to try hard to sound genuine, it was true. "But why would I leave the police to come work for you when you tried so hard to get me a job?"

The corner of his mouth came up. "Not that hard."

"Are you bragging?"

"Not at all. I only meant you did most of the work, Miss Scarlet. I only pointed the Commissioner in your direction."

It wasn't what he meant, they both knew it. Erza let it go, though, deciding that stepping out with grace was easier. "You're right. I did work hard. My point still stands."

He held out his finger in contradiction. "You wouldn't get the same kinds of benefits as you would here."

"My pension—"

"You were told you couldn't start paying into it for another year."

Erza puffed out her cheeks. "Are you spying on my confidential meetings?"

"I didn't have to. Your Chief Briggs is a predictable man," Jellal said with certainty. "Do you know why he wants to wait a year? So he can think of a list of fool-proof ways to fire you and not pay out."

"If that's true, he won't find one."

"You wouldn't have to fight so hard for everything here," Jellal acted like she hadn't spoken. "Good pay, perks like the use of the pool, meals from my gourmet chef—"

"Arrested when the police break in and tear _Halo_ up," Erza interjected.

"Now why would they do that?"

"Why don't you tell me?" she whittled. "They're here _every week_ from what I hear."

"Biasness."

"Lies. Why don't you try the truth?"

Jellal sat forward, making his leather chair squeak. "I could be coerced into sharing business if you wanted to deepen our relationship?"

Erza resisted the urge to sit back in her own plush armchair. It was ridiculous, there was a narrow coffee table between them but she was very, very aware of their positions. "That's actually why I'm here."

Jellal's grin widened. "Yes?"

It wasn't going to be the conversation he wanted to have. It was strangely satisfying crushing him. "Stop sending me flowers."

Jellal asked, "Don't you like them?"

"No."

"I thought they were romantic."

"I thought they were ostentatious and obnoxious." He must have spent a fortune already.

"Your boyfriend hates them?"

" _I_ hate them."

"That's not the way I heard it."

"I don't see how you'd hear it _any_ way," Erza said. "Unless, of course, you have people in the police department."

"I have people everywhere," he said carelessly.

"Who?"

"Come out for dinner with me tomorrow."

"No. Tell me the name of your man."

Jellal circumvented her request. "Why not?"

Erza faltered; not for long, but for a moment. "I already told you, I don't date criminals. The name."

"Who says I'm a criminal, doll? Because if it was the police, I'd be sitting behind bars, wouldn't I?"

"You know it's not so simple," Erza said. "You're sly, Mister Fernandez, and slippery. You do dirty business and hide it well."

"Well but not well enough to fool Constable Scarlet."

She _still_ liked hearing _Constable_ in front of her name. She had Gray call her that for a week straight after she'd been accepted onto the force and it still wasn't enough. And to hear it said with Jellal's rolling R's? It was impossible to snuff out completely the flame of pleasure that was cultivated. "I'm waiting for when you slip up."

Jellal's smile widened. This was a game he _enjoyed._ "If you went out with me, it'd give you a better opportunity to catch me red-handed."

"I told you, I don't date—"

"You told me that _months_ ago."

"Nothing's changed."

"Because you won't let it."

"And what would happen if I did, huh?"

"A very enjoyable evening of dinner, poolside fun, afterward, you'd come back to my room wrapped in one of my towels and once the door was closed, I'd help you get out of your swimsuit and you could do the same for me."

Erza imagined that too easily and smothered the blush that tried to come to her. "And after that? Do we go our separate ways?"

"If that's what you want."

"I'm not a call girl, Mister Fernandez."

"Of course not."

"And if I'm seen on your arm in town? What will people say?"

"Who cares?"

"Me," she said viciously. "They already whisper when you send flowers."

"And what do they whisper?" He looked like he was having a grand old time.

"That maybe I didn't deserve to get my job," Erza said, remembering the note _someone_ had scrawled in the girls' washroom just last week, using lipstick on the mirror. "That I've been doing favours for you while I'm with Gray. That I'm a loose woman turning tricks to get ahead." It made her so mad. "I _deserved_ to get my job, Mister Fernandez. So _what_ if you talked to the Commissioner? That doesn't _mean_ anything." She'd still had to pass the physical tests and the psychological tests and all of the _other_ tests that no one ever talked about, the ones where the men pushed you and you had to be better than them at _absolutely everything_ and if you weren't, you better learn to be, otherwise, you were the butt of every joke and the object of every whisper.

"I imagine it's difficult being the only woman in a police uniform."

He said it gently, _not_ patronizingly but Erza's back was still up. "Your antics aren't making things any easier."

Jellal did not apologize. "You know it wouldn't be that way in _Halo_. I have plenty of women that work here doing the kind of stuff you want to do; be one of those dames. Like I told you before, you don't want to wear a dress, Erza, doll, you don't have to. I'll have my tailor do up a nice pair 'a slacks for you. A good shirt too. You want a hat?" He took the one off his head and put it on hers; it smelled like pomade—pine, and was large enough that it slid down her brow and almost covered her eyes. "There you go. Get some suspenders, a pair of oxfords, you're looking sharp."

"Mister Fernandez—"

He kept on going. "I'll get you a gun. You want a Tommy? You got it. Prefer a Colt? Sure. Anything you like. And if anyone says a thing, it'll be dealt with."

She had to give him points for tenacity. She pushed up his hat and looked at him from beneath the brim. "That sounds illegal."

"That sounds like people should be shutting their trap."

Erza never doubted that Jellal was dangerous—you didn't become the primary weapons dealer in a place like Magnolia because you were sweet—but he'd never scared her before, not like he did then. She put her back ram-rod straight and took off his hat. Her do was messed up now, little pieces of scarlet flying away out of the knot of bobby pins she'd created. She didn't fix it just in case he thought she was trying to impress him. "My answer's the same as it was the first time you asked me."

Jellal didn't look deterred. "I'll keep at it until you change your mind."

"I won't."

"Things change."

"Not this."

"Time will tell." He smiled and Erza's stomach did something weird she wasn't fond of. She stood. "No more roses to the constabulary."

"As the lady wishes."

"Goodbye, Mister Fernandez."

"I'll hope to see you tomorrow, Miss Scarlet."

"Not likely, Mister Fernandez," she sang as she approached the door on the opposite side of the room, over a floor made of Birchwood, honey-coloured and clean. Laxus Dreyar, Jellal's right-hand man, opened the door for Erza with a smile that made her want to pull her gun and fill him in. She would never make it out of _Halo_ if she dared. Besides, that wasn't what a _good_ constable would do. "Mister Dreyar."

"Scarlet." Laxus followed her out. Though he loomed over her shoulder, he never said a word. Erza was okay with that, men who talked were men who were trying to distract and that's when they did things she didn't like, like pull a gun and put one in her chest. She listened to his walk over the now concrete floor. Nothing was irregular about his footfalls so she assumed she was okay. It helped, she supposed, that Jellal was openly sweet on her. Unless she messed up and his men were ordered, she didn't think any of his cronies would try to shoot her.

Only a couple of lights guided her and they were magic in nature, for with every step she took from Jellal's meeting room, one of the orbs would burn out behind her, darkness chasing her back. She reached a wall with the light of just one orb in tact. Laxus came up beside her and felt along the wall's edge. He depressed something and the wall sighed and eased back, letting the cool night in.

"Need a ride home?"

"No," Erza said.

"Not everyone's going to be intimidated by that piece you got." He nodded to her leg; so much for pulling the wool over his eyes. "It's still dicey for a lady like you out there."

"As long as you're in here, I'm sure I'll be just _fine._ That means no one's setting me on fire tonight."

Laxus developed a bland expression and she knew her joke wasn't well received. "If you're talking about what happened with that worm Tearm, he was cruisin' for a bruisin'. You don't lie to the boss, pretending like you're one of us just to get some dirt, and just walk away."

Erza smothered her nervousness. "You don't burn a man alive for it, either."

"He needed to be taught a lesson."

Ruthless; she'd expect no less from Jellal and those that served him. "It's been a pleasure, Mister Dreyar."

"You sure you don't want that ride?"

"Maybe next time." Erza deked past him and came out into the alley behind _Halo_. She could see the exhaust from Gray's old pickup and that was it, the rest of the truck was hidden behind the brick wall that was the bakery called _Missus Anne's_ beside Jellal's infamous restaurant. She walked quickly and missed her slacks; they didn't confine her legs like this dress did.

Just before rounding the corner, she cast one last look into the alley. Laxus was still watching her, though he'd put his back against the wall and kicked his leather-clad foot up. He had a weed in his mouth and the smoke was curling over his head. He waved and she didn't wave back.

The door of Gray's truck creaked and people watched her, curious of the girl in the evening dress climbing into the rusty old farm vehicle. Erza slammed the door closed and Gray asked tentatively, "How'd it go?"

"He says he's got a man in the constabulary," Erza griped.

Gray looked at her sharply. "Did he say who?"

"What do you think?"

He blew out a breath. "Doesn't seem to matter _what_ changes, this town's still crooked."

"I suppose when you have the money, you can buy the way it bends," Erza replied.

Gray didn't much like talking about how much money Jellal had. He didn't say it aloud, but Erza knew he was this side of jealous. "Did you talk about the flowers?"

"Yeah. He said he wouldn't send them anymore."

"Good."

"Yeah."

"You still should have let me go in and talk to him. _Halo_ isn't very safe."

"I've never organized a funeral," Erza said while looking out the window. "Wonder what that'd be like?"

Gray got the point and worked the truck into drive. It _always_ stuck, no matter what he did to it. "Being Marie Windsor's gotta be a hard gig."

"Being her boyfriend has got to be a whole lot better," Erza said sarcastically.

Gray pulled away from the curb. "I'm just saying, there's a reason why the femme fatale dies at the end. She takes too many risks."

Erza said, "I already caught Mister Fernandez's eye. It's not like hiding in the shadows while my man handles things is going to make him go away."

Gray looked over. "Sorry. I'm just worried, Erza."

"I've always handled myself," she replied succinctly.

"I don't want you to have to." He had a peculiar lilt to his voice that Erza wasn't sure she liked. "Not on your own."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Move out of your mom's house."

She squinted her eyes. "And go _where_?"

"My place."

Erza laughed. "My mom would _never_ let me just—"

"Then marry me."

 _"What?"_

Gray talked fast. "I make enough at the constabulary to take care of you _and_ your mom if you want to move her in, too."

Erza took some time to _process_. "You're serious?"

He looked away from the road again. His grey eyes looked black by the lights of passing cars. "Don't say it like that."

"Like I don't know if you're joking or not?"

Gray turned the corner onto Erza's street. He did well to hide his sigh as he slowed in front of her house, the small brick bungalow her mother had purchased with her husband's insurance money months before Erza was born. "Think about it."

Erza tangled her fingers in her dress. "The only thing I've ever wanted to do was be a constable."

He looked pained. "I know."

"I'm not going to give it up."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking you to come home to my place at the end of the day." He spoke again before Erza had the chance to. "I don't need an answer right away. Talk it over with your mom if you like." He nudged the curb with the truck's front tire and edged it into park. When he turned to look at her, Erza's stomach was doing _another_ strange flop. She didn't like how unsettled she felt that night.

Erza said the only thing she _could._ "Alright."

Gray leaned over and brushed his mouth against hers and she felt the same thrill she _always_ did, only now it was overshadowed by his question and she didn't know what to think, much less what to _feel_.


	2. Chapter 2

The bungalow belonging to Eileen Belserion was squat. It wasn't the nicest home on the street but it was quaint. There was a well-kept garden out front that curved around the sides, there was a driveway that was crushed stone and the car that sat out front was a sky blue Skylark.

Erza ascended the stairs and got beneath the covered porch just as a drop of late spring rain fell from the sky. More followed suit, steady and loud. She watched the concrete get dark and wasn't sure if she liked the way it smelled when it was wet.

The door opened and Erza stepped back as a man with a large white mustache came out of her home. It was hard not to recognize Mister Precht Gaebolg, one of many powerful and rich men her mother entertained. He glanced at Erza only briefly before lofting down the steps and getting into a cherry red Cadillac parked at the curb. Erza sighed and came into the house that smelled of cigarette smoke and roast.

"Is that you, Erza?"

"Hi, momma." Erza followed her mother's voice into the kitchen. Eileen looked up from where she sat at the shiny maple kitchen table in a black silk robe, painting her nails the same red as her hair, which also happened to be the same red as her lips with the help of Revlon. Her favourite gold necklace hung outside of her robe and winked in the light every time she moved. "How did it go?"

"Jellal Fernandez is a cad."

"You knew that." Eileen smiled and Erza thought she wished their positions were reversed. Her mother lived for things like this. Stringing along powerful men just for the fun of it? She would find it thrilling.

"And Gray asked me to marry him."

Eileen stopped, nail polish brush half flicked across her thumbnail. "Pardon?"

"That's what I said." Erza parted with her clutch, setting it on the counter. She took up a plate of roast and vegetables that were left out for her and set it on the table. Before she sat, she hiked up her skirt and unclipped her gun. It went on the table between them; Erza didn't feel the pleasure she usually did when she saw the metal stamped with MPD on the barrel.

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing." She stabbed a piece of Brussel sprout with her fork but didn't eat it yet. They were the worst vegetables in her opinion; bitter and no amount of butter made them better.

"I see." Eileen went back to painting and Erza scowled.

"What's that mean?"

"Marrying a Constable is something a lot of girls would fight for."

 _"I_ am a Constable. I don't need to marry one."

Eileen's smile showed teeth. "You've always done your own thing, Erza. You're so independent."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing at all, I was just enjoying the fact that I did something right."

"Then what is your opinion?" Erza whittled.

"Gray has been good to you," Eileen said. Her tone suggested there was more to her thoughts. She'd get to it in her own way.

"He has."

"He respected you becoming a Constable."

"Somewhat reluctantly."

"The world changes slowly. He didn't report you when you stole his gun or that Tudor or the uniform from his locker when Miss Heartfilia went missing."

"No," Erza agreed, though Gray hadn't noticed the latter until she told him.

"And when he looks at you, it's with respect."

"Yes."

Eileen asked, "Does that mean you should marry him?"

"Shouldn't I marry someone that loves me?"

Eileen yarned another question, too, in a no-nonsense kind of way. "Do you love him?"

"I think so."

Eileen capped her nail polish and stood. "I wouldn't marry a soul on _'I think so'_. Life is too short." Erza couldn't get time to digest that. Her mother was asking another question. "Are those swines letting you do something other than paperwork?"

"I go out tomorrow." It was her first patrol and she was excited. Excited enough that she was able to push aside everything else and think about that instead. She wondered if she was going to be able to sleep.

"I'm glad. I wouldn't want to have a conversation with that Captain of yours." Eileen came to Erza's side so she could drop a swift kiss to Erza's cheek. She left behind lipstick. "You'll do well."

Erza left the lip stain where it was for now; she'd only make things worse if she rubbed it off, smearing it over her skin. "I hope so."

"I know so." It was one of the most openly supportive things Erza's emotionally reserved mother had ever said to her. The only other time such high praise came was when Erza had knocked to the ground the tutor her mother had paid to instruct her in self-defence, a necessary thing, her mother had said years ago, before Erza understood what Eileen Belserion did for a living that made life so dangerous.

Her instructor was the man that had taught her everything she now knew about throwing a punch or rolling with a throw, which spot was sensitive on a person and what to do if she was outnumbered and outgunned. She'd eaten up every little piece of advice and her dream was born. She'd had to do things a little crookedly at first—the Constabulary took some coercion. They didn't know they needed to hire one Erza Scarlet to be legitimate, she had to show them. As her mother said, she'd taken a car when Lucy was kidnapped, she'd stolen Gray's spare gun and she'd taken his spare uniform, too, to do the rough work. She'd also helped with the retrieval of Lucy. It didn't go as planned; Lucy was still gone with the Dragon's Den leader's brother, Natsu Dragneel, though this time, Erza supposed, it was apparently of her own volition. Erza's feathers were ruffled at first but she'd come to accept that loss.

Besides, it wasn't her fault; Lucy _left_. And in the end, she'd helped take down a crooked police chief and she'd shed light on the atrocity that had beleaguered his daughter.

"Goodnight, Erza."

"Night, momma." Erza focused on cleaning her plate but listened to her mother leave the kitchen, bare feet padding along on the red and white tile floor. The door down the hallway closed and the bathroom sink came on and Erza stuffed her face, determined not to think about Lucy or Gray or work just then.

* * *

Morning came and the smell of cigarette smoke and coffee dragged Erza from bed. The clock read six fifteen. She hadn't slept well last night as she feared, but now that her eyes were open, she was thinking about her day and that was all the boost she needed to take her nightgown clad self to the bathroom and brush her teeth and then her hair. She plaited the curly locks and weaved them into a tight, low bun that rubbed the back of her shoulders if she tipped her head back too far. It would fit her police cap and it would make it hard for anyone who wanted to grab her hair. She'd considered cutting it; her mother had convinced her not to.

Eileen was back at the kitchen table when Erza descended the stairs, this time better dressed in a baby pink Halterneck dress. At her elbow rested a pair of white sateen gloves she liked to use for driving. She gave Erza the smile she always gave Erza when she saw her in her police uniform. The one that was more than a little bit proud. She didn't have to say it for Erza to know what she was thinking. They were both more comfortable this way.

"What are you doing today?" Erza asked.

"Just going to the market," Eileen replied.

"In your good dress?"

"Never know who you're going to meet." Eileen's lips were pink today; the colour didn't make her look softer or less striking as it might other women. She was one of those that turned heads everywhere she went. "Do you need a ride to work?"

"Gray was going to pick me up," Erza said and her stomach pitched. She still didn't have an answer for him.

"He'll be here soon then," Eileen said. "There's coffee in the pot and bacon in the oven."

Erza almost didn't taste it when she grabbed out the plate painted with purple flowers and stacked with strip bacon and filled her mouth. Eileen scrolled through the paper and Erza pressed her back against the countertop. "Anything good in there?" Anything to distract herself.

"Someone thought they spotted that Heartfilia girl downtown yesterday evening, with, of all people, your Mister Fernandez."

"That seems unlikely."

"And it seems like a gang member was hacked up again, this one from Mermaids' Heel."

Erza didn't need her to explain; two weeks ago, a known Den member by the name of Carla showed up by the river with her head lopped right from her neck. It seemed whoever the perpetrator was, they weren't discriminating between gangs.

"This person has flare, don't they?" Eileen mused darkly.

Erza didn't have an answer. When she'd cleaned her plate, she washed it. She was looking out the window over the sink so she saw Gray's truck pull up to the curb. She cranked off the water and dried her hands on her uniform. "I have to go."

"Good luck," Eileen said without looking up. "And don't take any flack from any of the men."

"I won't." Erza tugged on her leather combat boots, polished to a high sheen, and jammed her hat beneath her arm. She checked her pockets for house keys. She didn't carry her purse anymore and had locked herself out more than once. Her pockets were full.

"Bye!" She was hardly looking when she opened the door and thus tripped ungracefully over—a brown paper package tied with twine. Before even touching it she knew where it was from. It was surprisingly heavy when she picked it up and took it to Gray's truck.

"What's that?" Gray asked over the sound of his door squealing open.

Erza climbed in and opened it by way of response and her fingers met soft fabric. Looking at it, she supposed Jellal _had_ kept to his word, it wasn't a rose, but Erza wanted a fancy black pinstripe suit crafted by Jellal's tailor even _less_ than beautiful flora. Maybe. It was a fine suit. She found a fedora beneath the suit jacket. This one didn't slide down her brow. Gray's bland expression let her know he knew just where it came from and what he thought of it.

"Should I be happy that he's sending you clothes now instead?" he asked, putting the truck in drive and pulling away from the curb.

Erza put the suit between them and rested her cheek against the window. The world flew by; she felt like the new spring colours out there, all blurred together and out of focus. "He asked me to work at _Halo_ again. That's what this is about."

Gray put his foot on the gas and sped along to the constabulary. His silence was somehow _worse_ than him getting vocally angry about something Erza couldn't control. She'd know what to say if he got mad at her for it. This silence, though? It felt like poison.

* * *

The only man in the constabulary that would work with her was Gray and thus, that's who Erza was partnered with the first day she started work. Despite being personally invited to join the force by the Commissioner, the Captain decided where Erza went each day and he'd decided that she was much better suited to paperwork. It was like working at the front desk again, except out there she got to see the bad guys get pulled in and she could at least take calls and get involved that way. She could have complained, she supposed, but she never _would_. Her pride and vanity went as deep as her mothers and she was _determined_ to work doubly hard to earn the Captain's trust if that's what it took. The only downside was that as her partner, she was dragging Gray along with her.

Captain Briggs stuffed them in the Records' Room, out of sight and out of mind. The only person that shared the room with them was Ultear, the new records keeper. The old one had stepped out one day for a cigarette and just never came back. She packed up her bags and moved or so the story went.

This morning, Erza didn't bother going to her makeshift office, she parted ways with Gray at the front desk and went to collect her flak jacket. She didn't get a locker room like the boys had and she wasn't going to, either, the Captain was sure to point out. She shared the ladies room with girls that came into the Constabulary to pick up their beau after they'd had a night of trouble, and lawyer's assistants, and the occasional streetwalker. The most frequent to visit was Meredy and she always left colourful drawings on the bathroom mirror. Her favourite constable to pick on was Gray, probably because he ended up bringing her in more often than not.

Today, Erza studied a maroon drawing of Gray with a huge penis hitting him in the cheek. It was actually pretty good, considering the median Meredy had to work with, though Erza would never tell Gray that. The first time he'd seen the drawings, he didn't grumble about it because he'd been too busy pulling Erza from her stand on the toilet while she uncovered the Constable uniform she'd stolen from the hiding spot she'd chosen in the ceiling, but she could tell that he _wanted_ to. One wrong word now and she'd be hearing about it.

She no longer had to hide her equipment. She got her own little metal stand in the corner, one with a lock so not just _anyone_ could go through it. Like the mirror, it had been vandalized with lipstick. People wrote terrible things about her there, that she didn't have what she _should_ between her legs if she wanted to be a constable, that all she needed was a good husband to direct her and she'd learn what it was to be a wife, that not only was she doing stuff with Gray but the Chief and Jellal, too.

Erza stopped cleaning the lock box long ago. It had hurt her feelings at first but the more she looked at it, the less and less she cared. She imagined that one day, it would mean nothing at all.

Inside her lock box was a myriad of things. An extra uniform, boots and a hat, an extra gun, spare keys to her house. Her flak jacket. She pulled out the last and let its weight settle over her shoulders. It was heavy and hot; she was already sweating. _Just imagine walking around the mall like this_ , she thought, but if Gray and Elfman and Freed could do it, so could she.

Erza came out into the tiled hall and nearly ran into Gray. He held up a set of keys that Erza recognized and groaned. "You couldn't have gotten a different Tudor?"

"This is the one Captain gave me."

"Why was the Captain giving you _any_?" Erza griped. It should have been Levy at the front desk. Erza knew what his shrug meant. She took the keys from him. "Giving me a car that smells perpetually like vomit isn't going to make me quit."

"Nope," Gray said with a half smile. "Come on, Constable Scarlet, the bazaar is going to start in twenty and they need some cops on duty."

Erza led the way, making sure to smile widely at the Chief as she walked by. He lifted his balding head and kept his wrinkled and portly face clear of any emotion; his mud brown eyes said all of the things a cold smile would _not._ He was determined to make her realize that cop work wasn't for her, one way or another. Gray let her drive without compliant.

* * *

The mall was adjacent to a large baseball field and every spring for the last three years, a massive bazaar was set up and vendors from inside moved all of their merchandise _outside_ to encourage passersby to buy. Everything from food to baby clothes to the most modern fashion.

Erza was set up near the boutiques and Gray had taken to the meat venders a few hundred meters away. Though she was _curious_ about the beautiful dresses behind her, Erza _did not look_.

 _Refused._

She knew she could be more than one thing. She could like pants _and_ dresses, she could shoot guns _and_ wield lipstick, but that didn't mean that anyone else knew it. A glance the wrong way and people would be telling her just to go home and put on her Mary Janes.

Sunlight had broken through the blanket of grey clouds that hung over Magnolia for the last day. The temperature crept up a few degrees and thus, just as she feared, sweat crept down her neck.

A young girl trilled and ran past Erza, chased by a boy. Erza watched them with a smile. Behind them, slower and more reserved, came a girl of twelve or thirteen, with her golden hair done in ringlet curls. She glanced at Erza and her eyes stuck. Her feet slowed.

"Are you Constable Scarlet?" she asked.

Erza puffed out her chest without ever meaning to; pride was her Achilles heel. "Yes."

"My momma says you bought your job."

Erza's heart fell. "Did she?"

"She says that it worked because men are sweet on you. You're beautiful and beautiful girls get what they want."

It wasn't the kind of compliment that Erza smiled at. "That's not true. Girls that work hard get what they want."

The girl acted like she hadn't spoken. "She says one of the constables is your beau."

Erza tripped on her words. "I'm the best shot on the force. I run faster than anyone else." Except maybe Elfman but he had freakishly long legs. If all things were relative, she'd beat him, too. "I'm also the smartest."

"Are you?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"That's what I'd say, too, if it wasn't true."

A high scream drew Erza's attention. Coldness replaced the annoyance she'd been feeling as she pinpointed the source. The young boy that had been chasing his sister had his arm trapped in the grip of a man with long hair tied back. He thrashed and pulled away but he was no match for the older man.

"Jamie!" called the girl at Erza's side.

"You don't know that man?" Erza asked.

"No." The girl started to run and so did the man, picking the little boy up and tucking him beneath his arm despite the boy's writhing. Erza started running, too. Her flak jacket slowed her down, as did the innumerable people standing in the way. Erza pushed past them using her elbows. People yelled and gave her dirty looks. She didn't bother apologizing and wasting her breath. She made it around the meat stand. Gray saw her and opened his mouth. Whatever he said got swallowed up in the din.

A woman ahead of her with an armful of lingerie couldn't get out of her way and Erza couldn't stop. She bowled over the woman and clothes went flying.

The man stealing the boy looked back over his shoulder and there was a gun in his hand. Erza didn't think he'd dare fire but he did. The ground next to her feet exploded. People screamed, Erza continued to run and the boy twisted and got free. The man caught his arm and wrenched him back into his side. Erza lowered her shoulder and hit the would-be kidnapper in the middle hard enough that his breath exploded out of his chest and he went down hard, taking the boy with him. The boy screamed and screamed while Erza subdued his attacker. Gray showed with handcuffs and yanked the kidnapper into a standing position. The boy was still on the ground, crying and holding his arm in front of his chest.

Erza clambered to her feet. "I'll telephone for an ambulance."

"Get someone to relieve us, too," Gray said. "We'll get this guy into the Tudor."

Erza turned and realized that they'd accumulated an audience. The boy's older sister was there, the youngest's hand clutched in hers and she was red cheeked. She didn't say anything to Erza as she pushed past her and fell to her knees at her brother's side.

"Just doing my job," Erza murmured, only partially sarcastic. In her mind, the girl had already processed her shock and moved on to thanks.

* * *

"You're fired."

On the wall was a gilded picture of a Native woman in a canoe, hands holding a smudging shell and lifted to a pearl of a moon. It hadn't been there when Jude Heartfilia was Chief of Police and Erza liked the addition Chief Briggs added. He had no children and thus couldn't decorate with their photos so paintings were welcomed. They made small talk manageable. This picture had given her a way to break the ice between them.

"Did you hear me, Scarlet?"

Erza took her eyes away from the photo that had served her well in the past. "Pardon?"

Briggs weaved his fingers together and rested them on his desk. "I'm sorry, Miss Scarlet but there has to be disciplinary action."

"Disciplinary action," she repeated.

"That boy's arm was broken, the sister said it was your fault and the mother is furious."

"I saved her son."

He blinked at her, remaining quiet.

The longer Erza had to digest, the angrier she got. "I _saved_ him," she said again, in case he didn't hear. "That man was stealing him. He was probably a pervert."

"I read the report."

"Then you know one broken arm is a decent trade for a lifetime of troubles. That boy would be traumatized. If he even got out of there alive."

"Please, Miss Scarlet, I don't want dramatics—"

"Dramatic? You think that's dramatic?" Her voice was rising and there was nothing at all she could do to tone it back. "I save a boy from a terrible man and he breaks his arm accidentally but instead of defending me to the public like you would any of your other Constables, you throw me to the wolves. You've been trying to get rid of me since the first day I stepped foot in here with a badge of my own. This is just an excuse."

"Miss—"

"Admit it." She had her feet beneath her now and her palms against Briggs' tidy desk.

"I'll say you look better in a dress, Scarlet, but you were passionate."

"I _am_ passionate," she said. "Not 'were'. I'll just call it a day and tomorrow, you can tell the media that it was an unfortunate incident and that it was unavoidable but the important thing is that boy is safe. I'll go out on my second patrol and I'll get another bad guy and you'll be hep, I'll be hep and we're cool."

"Police work isn't just about _'getting the bad guy_ ,'" Briggs said in an annoyingly gentle voice. "You want to do good, Scarlet, and I commend you, but your idea of police work is skewed."

Erza barely felt her nails digging into her palms. "Not as badly as yours. If it were up to you, I'd be doing paperwork forever because," she sneered. "Girls look better in dresses."

Briggs stood and offered her his hand. "It's been a pleasure, Miss Scarlet."

Erza curled her nose up and ignored his hand. She took off her badge and slammed her gun down on the table before storming out. The door closing echoed loudly down the hall. Mira looked up from the front desk, ocean blues worried when she saw Erza. She couldn't ask _'what's wrong_ ,' because she had a phone in her ear. That was good for Erza. She had gone from screaming angry to crying in less than a heartbeat. The reception blurred. She knew her way to the ladies' room well enough that she didn't have to be able to look too hard.

"Hey, Scarlet," called a familiar voice that Erza thoroughly ignored. She didn't know why Laxus Dreyar was in the constabulary and she didn't care, either.

When she came out of the washroom with all of her things a moment later, he was at the front desk speaking to Mira. Both were distracted enough that Erza was pushing open the outside door before Mira noticed.

In the parking lot while looking at all of the cars, Erza realized that she had another problem. "Fuck." Gray drove her in. She looked back over her shoulder and imagined walking back in and finding him, asking for his keys or asking him to take her home. She never would walk through those double wide oaken doors again, not while her nose and cheeks were red and wet, not while her throat felt like a pinhole. Not while she'd been stripped of her dream and hadn't been given the chance to mourn it yet.

The doors opened and Mira's head of platinum hair met with the sun, as bright as a jewel. Erza turned from her. When Mira called her name, Erza began to run and didn't stop until she had a stitch in her side so bad, she could barely draw breath.

* * *

Her hair was the same red as a cardinal. She didn't have it plaited and circled into a bun, it was loose and the wind played through it, ghost hands working out the kinks. If she hadn't climbed into his car and taken him at gunpoint and demanded that he follow Zeref Dragneel through the city on a wild chase months ago, he thought he'd be perpetually _bored_. He wanted more than just the red of blood to fill his dreams. Silk was much nicer. It wasn't shy of the sunlight and made much less of a mess. Or at least, he imagined that it would if she ever allowed him to touch it.

She had her face down looking into the heart of the Constable hat she'd cared for enough to brush it free of lint every day—though today was the first time she'd actually put it on and gone out on patrol—and didn't look up until Jellal actually lowered himself down on the bench beside her. He set his umbrella on the bench at his side—it looked like it was going to rain _again—_ and pulled out a black handkerchief from his pocket. He handed it over without a word. She wasn't very subtle, sniffling and swiping the back of her hand under her nose. Erza looked at it before taking it up and drying her cheeks.

"What are you doing here?"

"I come here to enjoy the spring flowers," Jellal said. "I just fortuitously happened to pass by a sad girl. Being the gentleman that I am, I decided to stop." She didn't tell him to beat it, surprisingly. Jellal almost wasn't sure what to do when she wasn't telling him to fuck off. "Rough day?"

"I was fired."

Jellal chewed his cheek. "Fired."

Erza seemed _happy_ to part with her burden and spilled her plight to him without any prying at all _._ "I hit a man off balance that was trying to steal a boy. The boy fell and broke his arm and that was it. The Chief said I was fired."

Jellal frowned. "Just like that?"

"Seems like." Erza wouldn't look at him, not directly. He focused on the freckles on her pink nose and the inky lashes brushing her cheeks. She'd stopped crying; it was hard to tell how long ago. Skin so pale always betrayed its owner, red and blotchy.

"He wouldn't have fired any of his other constables for that."

Erza looked up for the first time and met his eye. Like he hoped, a little bit of gladness flashed through her gaze. "That's what _I_ said."

"And?"

She dropped her gaze again and her voice moved back into monotone. "He said that he had to discipline me."

She looked so miserable. This was what he wanted. He'd said to her once that when the Lawmakers rejected her, he'd take care of her, but he didn't properly account for how important this dream had been to her. Witnessing its death was brutal. "I can take care of it," Jellal said. Erza's eyes came from the ground and found the trees across the park, tall pines and maples whose leaves were half-grown, bright green because there'd been so much rain lately. "I'll talk to the Commissioner and I'll have his job. Hell, _you_ can be Captain if you want," he offered. "Will that make you happy?"

Erza heaved a heavy sigh. "No, don't do that; it'll make things worse."

A raindrop fell from the sky. Jellal opened his umbrella and held it over them both. "What'll make you happy then, doll?"

"What would make me happy is if I was never fired in the first place."

"I can't change the past. I can offer you another job, though, if you need the bread."

Erza pushed her hair back from her face and squinted at the sky. She didn't say yes and she didn't say no.

"You can think about it for a day or so," Jellal offered and Erza said nothing again. He pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and sparked it up. Smoke coiled beneath the umbrella. He tucked the pack back into his pocket and stood.

"You're leaving?"

"'Less you want me to stay?" Erza's neck went pink. "That's what I thought." He bent and put the umbrella's handle in her hand. Her skin was rougher than most girls'. He liked that about her. "Keep yourself dry, Red. You can give it back to me the next time we meet."

Erza seemed to come out of it. "I can't—"

"Sure you can. When you're ready, come to _Halo_. We'll have dinner, talk business." When he walked away, he was confident that she was thinking about it and hard.


	3. Chapter 3

Rain clung to his suit and stained the fabric. Jellal wasn't too worried. He paid his staff well. They'd find a way to get the staining out or they would make the suit disappear and find something to replace it with. The only one he'd notice missing was the one his father gave to him when he turned twenty-one and joined the family business.

At the edge of the park where the crush stone path met the road, Laxus waited patiently beside the '29 Studebaker President FB, hip pressing into the spare tire behind the front wheel well. He pulled his thick cigar out of his mouth to examine the cherry. Seemed like the rain hadn't been treating him good.

"You could have waited inside," Jellal said.

"I couldn't stand his voice."

"That Strauss girl came through then?" Jellal asked.

Laxus' smile was crooked. "She needed some coercion but eventually told me her brother spotted him on Brigade Avenue. From there, wasn't so hard, was it? He's always liked fire. I found him pretty quick."

"And Strauss wasn't interested in why you were askin'?"

Laxus said, "Told you, her girlfriend there got fired and she didn't give a damn about me."

"Good." Jellal peeked into the backseat window. Natsu Dragneel needed to bleach his dark hair again and there was something _new_ stabbed through his lip that Jellal had never seen anyone else around these parts wear. Natsu saw him looking through the window and lifted his favourite finger in his favourite salute.

"That's the politest he's been."

"What's he got in his face?"

"I asked. He called it a _lip ring_ ," Laxus said.

"Where did he get that from?"

Laxus looked at him blandly. "I didn't get the details, boss."

"I see." It looked like something that could be torn out if Natsu pissed off the wrong people. Which he was constantly doing. "Did he say where he put Gajeel's car?"

"He claims that after he and Heartfilia's girl used it to make a break for it, he sold it." Laxus' smile widened. "I can't wait to tell Gajeel."

Jellal said, "We shouldn't let him get killed. I plan on taking over the Den and I want her members to be in tact."

"If you say so," Laxus said. He looked over Jellal's shoulder and Jellal followed his gaze. On the opposite side of the park, Erza had gathered herself up from her bench and was slowly walking toward the road on the north side of the park. "Scarlet's not joining us?"

Jellal shook his head. "Not yet." That was just as well. Easing her into working for him would be best; she would balk for sure after today. The sky started falling harder.

"You think we should offer her a ride? It's raining."

"She's got my umbrella," Jellal said. He left Laxus' side to get into the passenger's seat.

Natsu spoke from the back. "Long time, Jellal."

"Weed?" Jellal took his cigarettes out of his pocket and handed it on back.

"Finally, someone that knows how to be civil—"

It'd be better if he wasn't wearing rings; it would have hurt less. Jellal's knuckles sang; Natsu always had a hard head and punching him always fucking hurt. Natsu hadn't been expecting the sharp jab but he recovered quickly and pushed Jellal's hand aside. He didn't get in a hit of his own. Laxus reached into the back seat and pushed him hard against the doorframe.

"You take what's coming to you, Dragneel, and you say _thank you, Mister Fernandez,_ because it's going to be _good_ treatment."

Natsu pushed Laxus' hands aside, too, and wiped his slowly bleeding cheek. Laxus took his handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Jellal. Jellal cleaned his knuckles. "That's for stealing."

"I never stole _anything_ from you."

"Remember that time you took my Corvette?"

"Okay, _once."_

"And you took off with Gajeel's Coupe. Which is just as good as taking from me."

"I needed—"

"On top of all that, though, you don't respect my properties, the lines I've written in this city, you just go wherever the hell you want, whenever you want—"

"If you're talking about when I had everyone gather at Bristol, the Dreg House was burning and—"

"I _am_ talking about that time but there have been others, haven't there?"

Natsu got quiet.

"Where were you staying when you ran away, Natsu?"

"I rented a house by a beach," he said easily.

"And on your way back? Stop in Clover?"

He shied away from Jellal's gaze. Jellal already _knew_ the answer but he pushed anyway, wanting to hear it from Natsu.

"Did you perhaps stop at a farmhouse on Eighth Concession?"

"It was just some abandoned place," Natsu said. "What about it?"

"It _wasn't_ just some abandoned place and you know it. I don't know _how_ you know it, mind. The only explanation I've got is you listen just a little too much when you shouldn't. Apparently nothing fucking sticks in that thick skull of yours except the things you shouldn't know about."

Natsu rubbed his cheek again; it was swelling. "I just heard you and Laxus talk about a safe house one night over poker, okay? I had the cops on me and I needed a place to lay low."

Jellal was back to being furious. "Drive, Laxus." The Studebaker came alive with a _roar_ and the accelerator was depressed.

"If you're bringing me back to teach me a lesson, forget it," Natsu said. Jellal thought he was being brazen to the last but it seemed that he had more important things to do, for once, than argue. "I learned it. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

An apology of that caliber from Natsu Dragneel was odd enough but to get it so sincerely and _quickly_? "Take us to Bristol Avenue, Laxus."

"Okay, apology not accepted, apparently. If you're going to get a lesson in, it doesn't have to be at Bristol," Natsu said and added, "Right here's fine."

"You got that Heartfilia girl waiting for you?"

Even more surprising than an apology was Natsu's candidness. "Yeah."

"Hm. I sympathize but I got a problem. I like this car," Jellal said. "I'm impartial to getting blood on the upholstery. Besides, we have some things to talk about. It'd be nicer if you were sitting. Comfortable."

"What?"

"I'd like you to hear a proposition I've been working on and bring it back to your brother."

Natsu looked at him warily. "Why not just talk to Zeref yourself?"

"Because the deal will sound sweeter out of his brother's mouth," Jellal said and turned back around to watch the world go by.

* * *

Erza thought maybe she should have asked Jellal to drop her off at home; surely, she wasn't too prideful to avoid getting wet feet? She'd looked that direction, though, saw him and Laxus standing around that Studebaker he loved (supposedly) almost as much as he loved his white Corvette, and she knew that she'd never ask. Constable or not, it would look awful if she was seen being carted around by Jellal and his minions the day she was fired.

So she got wet feet. Her top half was dry, anyway. She wished she had a change of clothes, though. For the first time ever, she didn't want to wear her uniform. She didn't want to be seen in it. She didn't want to look at herself in the mirror with it. And she definitely didn't want to drag herself into her mother's bungalow and explain why she was red eyed. If she knew her mother at all, Eileen would never let it rest, not until she had taken her shots at the Chief and everyone that supported his decision, too.

Coming around the corner she saw that her mother had left the porch light on; it broke up the coming night. Gray's truck was in the driveway and there was another car on the curb, sitting beneath a streetlight. As far as Erza could see, it was a black Hudson Hornet. Its engine was running and she could hear _Oh Boy_ by Buddy Holly coming out of the speakers. The sound got louder as the window rolled down.

"Scarlet."

Erza froze with her foot half-extended. She would have kept going if she'd been prepared but she was not. She looked back over her shoulder to confirm and was met by Chief Briggs' craggy face. She got over the shock and summoned a scowl. "Get out of here."

"I'd actually like it if you got in." He looked up and down the street nervously as he spoke; there were no cars.

"I don't get in cars with pigs," she felt validated in saying and Briggs flinched.

"Please, Miss Scarlet. I borrowed my nephew's car and everything, just hurry up and get in before someone sees us."

She didn't know _why_ she crossed the road with her umbrella in hand, maybe it was the sincere curl to his brow or the way he said her name pleadingly. Maybe she just wanted an opportunity to scream at him some more. She opened the door and climbed in; the car smelled like leather and smoke and cologne. There were kid's toys in the back seat, a doll dressed in a badly fitting baby blue police uniform. Its hair was redder than strawberries.

"Belongs to my granddaughter, Maggie," Briggs said when he caught her looking.

"I thought you didn't have family?"

"When you've been a cop for as long as I have, you learn not to advertise," he said.

Erza puffed out a breath and turned back around. "What do you want?"

Briggs put the car in drive and ignored her question. "My granddaughter got the doll with red hair because she thought it looked like you, then she stripped her brother's doll and dressed it like that."

 _That_ threw Erza more than the impromptu car ride. "She did?"

"She looks up to you. She wants to be like grampy and daddy and now she thinks she can be," Briggs said and there was a note of sourness to his voice.

"I bet she's going to be _thrilled_ the day you tell her dames look better in dresses," Erza said, getting a cut in when she could remember to.

"I'm still hoping that she'll wake up one day and realize that this isn't a good life, not for a lady," he replied.

"Afraid she'll get unjustly fired by a Chief that's a giant flaming bag of—"

"Enough with the flattery," Briggs said. "I didn't come out all this way to hear you talk sweet in my ear."

"Then what the hell _do_ you want?"

He slowed at a stop sign and looked both ways before accelerating again. The wipers wicked away water from the windshield and the song on the radio had changed to _My Foolish Heart_ by Billy Eckstine. "I wanted to talk to you about today."

Erza entertained what that might mean and didn't like where her mind immediately went. She wanted the Chief to say he'd made a mistake and she didn't because she didn't want to have to go back; it was humiliating. "What _about_ today?"

"How thick are you in with Jellal Fernandez?"

He threw her for another loop. "What?"

"Are you friends, are you lovers, are you acquaintances? Do you hook up and play a little backseat bingo when your beau's out of town? How close are you?" he prosed again.

Erza stammered, and then she collected herself enough to be outraged. "That's none of your damn business."

Chief Briggs gave no quarter. "What they're whispering about you, Erza, is it true?"

She was furious enough to spit out a fevered _"No_ ," along with a choice word that had the Chief's neck going red.

"Did your momma teach you those words?"

"And worse," Erza said.

"Fernandez, though, he _wants_ to be close, right?"

"Pull over."

He kept on course. "You're a good looking dame, of course he does. I have a job for you if you'll accept it. If you are still loyal."

Erza scowled and said, "If you're wondering about my loyalty, this is a bad way to make me sweet on you."

"I am wondering about your loyalty, but I think you're the only person for the job," the Chief said.

"What job?"

He smiled minutely. "There's discord on Magnolia's streets. Gangs are shooting each other up without warning and people are disappearing. When they show up again, their head's lopped off. If anyone knows anything, it'll be the weapon's dealer in Magnolia, wouldn't you say?"

"So?"

"So, I want you to find out who's causing war and I want you to find out why."

Her heart skipped beat with excitement. She choked the feeling. "Why not get one of your other constables to do it, huh?" Erza asked. "One that wasn't fired?"

"Because none of my other constables have been offered a job weekly by the biggest crime syndicate in Magnolia, have they? And no one else is in the position to take the job."

He said the last in a way that made Erza look at him suspiciously. "Being suddenly jobless, that _is_ convenient, isn't it?"

Briggs sighed. "Firing you was necessary. Doing it publicly like that… makes it so Fernandez isn't suspicious when you accept his offer."

"You really set me up?" Erza spat.

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Had to. My granddaughter was real pleased to meet you."

Erza looked. He wasn't kidding. "Are you broken up there?" She tapped her own head. "I don't care _how_ secretive you are. Don't you think people would recognize your family? Everyone is going to know that you put them up to this."

"My son has been dead for seven years and his wife has only just moved back to Magnolia."

"Unbelievable," Erza muttered. "That boy's arm was broken."

This Briggs winced at. "That _was_ unfortunate, and Jamie did cry. He toughened up, though, once he realized that he could get his cast signed. He'd like you to add your name to the growing collection, too."

Erza put on her best _displeased_ face though she was a little enamored with the idea that in Briggs' household, she had made something of a name for herself. "All of this because you wanted me to get in good with Mister Fernandez."

"It's an important job."

"Well, you can find someone else to do it."

"There _is_ no one else, Scarlet. You're it."

"You _fired me_."

"For good reason!"

"You could have said something," Erza hissed over Elvis Presley's voice and the sound of the driving rain.

"How would firing you have been believable then, eh? No offense, doll, but this was made in the shade when you were in the dark."

"I hate you," Erza said offhandedly. "You're a bad Chief."

"And you're a bad employee getting all pie-eyed when there's justice to be done."

"That's called _enthusiasm_."

"The actual term you're looking for is _liability._ "

Erza scowled. "Get bent."

"You going to do this job or what?" Briggs asked.

She held her scowl and her tongue.

"Reinstatement comes once we have a name," Briggs said. "And a promotion."

"I get my own office?" Erza didn't mean to ask, nor did she mean to sound so hopeful.

"You get to come into the bullpen with the rest of the men," Briggs said. "Any sexual harassment is on your shoulders, and if you knock one of my men out and they gotta take time off work, you're picking up their shifts."

That was the most agreeable thing she'd heard all day. Still, it seemed unfair.

"You gotta keep quiet about this, though, Erza. Not a peep to a soul. I can't tell you what to do with your beau but I will say if Jellal suspects you, I can't help."

All Erza heard was, "It's a secret mission?"

"Yeah."

She was in love.

Briggs accurately assessed the look in her eye and opened the glovebox in front of her. From its depths, he pulled a gun unmarked with the MPD crest. It was plain jane, functional. "You can pick up more bullets from the market."

Erza took the gun and had nowhere else but her pocket to put it. She forgot herself and her anger for the moment. "Thanks, Chief."

"Don't thank me, I'm still trying to decide if this was a mistake," he mumbled and turned the car back the way they came. He stopped on a street three over from Erza's and told her a quick, "Watch for unsavories."

In suburbia, the worst Erza had to worry about was Micky on the street slow dancing to rock with his garage door open, his girl in his arms. She walked fast all the same and kept her eyes peeled for anyone looking her way too long. She went unbothered until she got to her driveway and realized that Gray was outside getting into his truck. The front door was open and her mother stood in the doorway, looking peeved and relieved all at once.

"Erza," Gray said when he heard her feet on the ground. "Where the hell have you been? I've been looking all over town for you."

She told her first of many lies. "I was just walking around. I needed to clear my head."

He came for her and took her hand. His palm was calloused and his grip was firm, familiar and enjoyable. He pulled her into a hug so tight that Erza couldn't get breath. "I tried to talk to the Chief. He told me that unless I wanted to be fired, too, to shut up. I didn't. He didn't take my badge, though. I think if I work on him again tomorrow I can bring him around."

Eileen closed the front door and gave them some privacy.

"Forget it, Gray."

"No, Erza. This is your dream. I'm not going to just sit back and watch some old boy stomp on it because he can't see you're good at what you do—"

"No sense in both of us being out of a job," Erza said. It was a good thing that her chin was over his shoulder, that way, Gray couldn't see the way she smiled just minutely at the thought of going undercover.

"I don't care," Gray said. "I'll quit and we'll both go to Hargeon or something. They're always looking for beat cops."

"I'm sure when you dreamed of being a constable, you weren't skimming through Hargeon's alleys arresting sailors for being drunk and disorderly." Not Gray. He was a career man. He'd already put that in jeopardy for Lucy, Erza was determined not to see him try to do it for her, too.

"I don't _care,_ Erza—"

"Maybe not today you don't. But you might tomorrow. Just forget about it."

His chest expanded; he was drawing in air for another argument. Erza pulled out of his grasp and tugged him toward his truck as a distraction. "Take me for a ride?"

* * *

The bluffs around Fairy Lake were a popular spot. Depending upon your purpose there, that was. On one side of the large lake was a body dump by the name of Monnet's Point, frequented by people of ill repute. It wasn't scenic, on the edge of a highway frequently used by transports, or easy to get to, full of sharp and jagged rocks and steep plunges that could take you away with one misstep.

On the other side of the lake was Tofino Point where, if you knew where to park your car, you could drive it all the way down to the water's edge and use the trees to block you from view. It had become a favourite spot. Erza supposed that she should have been clearer in her request for a drive. Of course, Gray would think this was what she had in mind. Why _wouldn't_ he?

He put the car in park and reached for her and the words Erza had been stoking to put a 'soft' end to their relationship got caught in her throat. Suddenly, she was in his lap and his hands were on her and _Johnny B. Good_ was playing and she wasn't thinking about much of anything other than how weird and messed up her day had been and how this was so much nicer and _familiar._

Gray made quick work of her wrinkled uniform and the plain white T-shirt she wore beneath it. Once he got down that far, though, he slowed. It was no secret that this was his favourite part and that morning, she'd put the bra on just for him, figuring that they'd end up together at _some_ point that day. His fingers skimmed over the lacy material, coming to a halt at the tips of her breasts where he drew slow, small circles. Erza wriggled some and felt him stiff against the inside of her thigh.

"Did you bring the rubbers this time?"

"I started leaving some in here." Gray wrapped his arm around her middle and leaned forward so he could go searching through the glovebox. He came out with a package of _Dean's Redi-wet_. Not only did he have extra, he had the expensive stuff. Erza rolled her eyes skyward and laughed.

"What?"

"You're such a dweeb."

"Last time we didn't have any—"

She kissed the words away and started getting him out of his pants. Her leg kept hitting the suit Jellal had sent to her and her excitement grew to outweigh her guilt. Tomorrow, she'd start doing _real_ police work. Work she was _meant_ for. She channeled her enthusiasm elsewhere. Today had gone from being the worst day of her life to the best in the blink of an eye and she shared some of her euphoria with Gray.

* * *

There weren't _many_ times Jellal preferred to do the work himself but this was one of those. Not only did he want to send a message to Zeref, who had let his house get so grossly out of order that others were looking to pick him off, Jellal wanted to make an _impression_. He wanted to sell his proposition and he wanted it to be _good._

He wanted this to seem like the only option.

Natsu had stopped holding his head up defiantly about a minute ago. Out of respect, Jellal pulled his punches. He didn't leave huge gouges in the youngest Dragneel anymore, he'd taken off his rings and did good work.

Thorough, though.

"I think that's probably good."

It was very, very rare that Laxus was the voice of restraint but Jellal grasped onto it because it would be easy to keep going. It wouldn't make Zeref cooperative, though, would it? He pulled back and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. Laxus handed him a glass of water that he slugged back while Natsu spat blood at his feet, staining the parking garage's floor. This had become a favourite place for Jellal; it was where he did all of his best work now. He'd kicked out the lawyers and the police and the judges that rented parking spaces and paid a man to watch the garage intently for any that shouldn't be there. The loss of those funds was a small hit to his finances. The world was always on the brink of war and when it was not, individuals and gangs like those that fought for prominence on Magnolia's streets and beyond needed to be armed. It was surprising how many bullets and guns they went through. What was even _more_ surprising was how much he could jack up the price of both because he made sure his guns were clean. Untraceable.

People who understood that they got what they paid for always paid premium price.

Jellal held out the glass and waved for Laxus to fill it up. The water came and the glass got so full that it almost spilled over Jellal's hand. "With me, Natsu?"

Natsu slowly lifted his head. His nose was fine, mostly. A little swollen. His cheeks and his brow and his lip were where the damage really showed. That lip ring was squeezed tight beneath the swelling. He gathered more blood on his tongue and spat it out again, almost hitting Jellal's shoes. Jellal sidestepped the glob and didn't hit Natsu again, though if it were anyone else he would have.

"You're a good sport, taking your licks without complaint." Never mind that he was tied to a chair.

Jellal grabbed Natsu by the chin and tilted his head back. He brought the water to his mouth next and poured it in slowly. Didn't matter _how_ careful he was, though, the water still dribbled over Natsu's front, taking with it runners of sweat and blood that stained the leather jacket he wore. "Your jacket's ruined. We have a new one for him, Laxus?"

"I could get Bickslow to deliver one tomorrow."

"Good. What size are you?" He tapped Natsu's chest. "Looks like you've been lifting some. Large?"

Natsu gave a cautious nod.

"Good. Are we ready to talk business now, Clyde?"

Again, Natsu nodded.

"You're a bit smarter than when you left, aren't you?" Jellal prodded. "What happened out there, Natsu? Turn twenty-one and your brain cells turned on?"

"Fuck off."

Jellal smiled. "Just checking. Thought I had an imposter, you were being so cooperative."

"I just want to get out of here," Natsu said.

"Your baby's probably scared, huh?"

Natsu was silent which meant _yes._

"No worries, I'll let you get back to her," Jellal said. "First, though, I want to talk about this loose screw that's been hacking and slashing throughout Magnolia."

"I don't know much about it," Natsu said. "I only just got back in town."

"I very much doubt you would have come back if you didn't feel like you had to."

Natsu gave Jellal what he wanted without his having to fish too hard. "Zeref called and asked me to come home. He was shook up after what happened to Carla."

"That was sad. I paid my respects; Carla was a nice girl. She and Happy are together now, though, right?"

Natsu's face pinched. "Did you bring me here to talk about Carla and Happy?"

"No. I brought you here to offer you and Zeref and the rest of the Dragon's Den sanctuary."

"Sanctuary?"

"You come and work for me, be part of the Fernandez name, and I can't guarantee that no one's going to be cutting anyone's heads off, but you'll have a much better chance at survival."

"Thanks but no, thanks."

"That's not your call, is it?" Jellal asked. "Take my offer to Zeref. He's reasonable. He'll understand that there is someone tearing through Magnolia trying to undermine the families that have a strong foothold in this city."

"Still, no, thanks."

"The Den used to be powerful," Jellal mused. "Before Kinana betrayed you and Erik was shot. Before little brother Natsu ran away. Before Carla had her head cut off and Happy had his life wrung out like—"

Natsu cut in. "And what are we going to do for you? Run Snow up north?" His sarcasm was potent.

"Sometimes. Not always, though."

"Then what?"

"I'll discuss that with Zeref when he comes to see me."

Natsu sighed and looked away. Jellal nodded to Laxus and Laxus cut Natsu's bonds. He didn't let Natsu up, though. He grabbed his face and wrenched it back. "That thing in your lip is fucking ugly. Someone's going to tear it out."

"Not if I don't keep getting punched around," Natsu said.

"That's funny. Little Natsu Dragneel keeping his trap shut long enough to avoid a knuckle sandwich."

Natsu pushed him off and got to his feet. He swayed like he was drunk.

"Need a ride back?" Jellal asked.

"I got it, thanks."

"Watch for machetes," Jellal said. "I'd hate to see all my hard work go down like that."

Natsu pressed his tongue against his lip and felt where it was split. "I don't know if Zeref's going to be feeling cooperative when he sees me."

"He will be," Jellal said. "Zeref knows that treatment was more than fair." He was betting on it. Zeref seeing how easy it was to get to the people he cared about was what was going to sell him on joining Jellal. "Anyone else and—" He mimed a gun with his fingers and lined up the shot. "They'd be talking to daisies."

Natsu adjusted his leather jacket around his shoulders and sidestepped Laxus. Jellal watched him until he exited the garage.

"I hope that generosity wasn't a reflection of how you rule, _figlio mio_."

Jellal turned just as, across the parking lot, the doors leading upstairs and into the stairway banged closed. Acnologia was as formidable a presence as ever. His dark hair was pulled back and plaited down his spine to show off the tattoos that had marked him for as long as Jellal could remember, and in his hand was a large cigar that he had yet to light. The heels of his handmade cap toe oxfords _clicked_ decisively with every step.

" _Padre_ ," Jellal greeted. "I thought we agreed you would stay where it's safe?" As in, in the new safe house he'd provided _outside_ of Magnolia where the old man couldn't meddle in his business.

"Where else is safer but in my son's kingdom?" Acnologia asked with a smile that never, ever, for as long as Jellal could remember, met his eyes. "Your _madre_ said she was uncomfortable after the last incident and wanted to come to Magnolia where it was safe. Who was I to deny her?"

Jellal felt a small lick of shame. "Natsu didn't know you were in the house in Clover."

"Careless," Acnologia said and Jellal had to agree, he _had_ been careless. It wasn't every day that he had to hide his on the lam father, though. He took out his lighter and came to his father's side. Acnologia put the cigar in his mouth and let Jellal set it alight.

"You're right. Come back to _Halo_. I'll take care of you both there." He wrapped his arm around Acnologia's shoulder like they were much closer than they actually _were_ and led him to the Studebaker. He opened the front passenger's seat and let Acnologia take up residence there while he took the back. If his father suspected that it was because he wanted to be able to put a bullet in his spine if he saw the need to, Acnologia didn't insist that their situations were reversed.

"I've already moved our things into that hole you've made your heaven," Acnologia said. "And your _madre's_ eager to see her _piccola stella_."

It had been a long time since he'd heard that term of endearment, _little star_ , and it made him ache fiercely for home and the woman that had tried to curve the sharp edges her husband had made in her son.

Laxus got in the driver's seat and directed the Studebaker out of the garage. They left the chair where it was; chances were, it would be used again before the end of the week.


	4. Chapter 4

Erza was twelve when her mother stopped coming into her room to make her bed while she was at school, and fourteen when she stopped entering unannounced altogether. Eileen respected Erza's privacy. Given that, Erza was surprised when she opened her bedroom door much later than she'd intended, and saw her mother waiting for her on her bed, wearing her favourite black robe. She wore a strange expression, one caught between anger and concern.

"What happened?"

This was her very first obstacle. Erza had never lied before, not about anything _important_. She'd never had much of a need to. Someone had once told her, though, that the best lies were woven with the truth. She edged the line by telling her mother exactly what she wanted to hear and not an inch more. "The Chief fired me."

"Yes. I gathered. _Why_?"

"Because I broke a boy's arm," Erza muttered and took the package Jellal had left her that morning to her dresser. In the mirror, she could see her mother's raised brow. She took the hint and went into more detail. She told her about the market and the young girl and her siblings and the man that had taken Jamie by the arm and pulled him off.

"And he fired you." It wasn't a question and it was stated in a tone that gave Erza the same feeling she had when she was just a girl and she had badly misjudged her mother's forgiveness and missed curfew.

"Yes."

Eileen's fingers curled and uncurled into hard fists. "How dare he? He wouldn't have done that to any of his other constables."

"No."

"He'll pay for this."

"Momma, please."

"No, Erza. It's not right."

"It's not." Erza blurted, "But I'm accepting the position at _Halo._ Mister Fernandez sent me a suit and a hat and I'm—I'm going there tomorrow." She took both items from the torn package and held them up for her mother's inspection. The suit needed to be ironed out now that it sat folded like that all day. That was alright, Erza thought she'd be awake for a few more hours yet; if she even slept that night. She was so wired. "And I'd really like to just move on with some dignity and _not_ give the Chief any ammunition. With any luck, he'll come out of this looking like the bad guy."

Eileen unclenched her fists and lifted her eyes to Erza's. They looked so alike now that Erza was able to see into the future. Fifteen years would go by before she had the slight crow's feet at the corners of her eyes that her mother did; she would get more freckles but if she had any luck, her eyes wouldn't be as guarded as her mother's. Or her voice as sharp. "You're taking the job?"

Erza took any opportunity she could to _not_ meet her mother's eye as she answered her questions and turned and started pulling at her sweaty uniform. The jacket went on the floor beside her dresser; she'd pick it up in the morning and (it made her cringe) throw it out as to not rouse her mother's suspicions. Or maybe throwing it out would be the most incriminating? Would her mother _know_ that she'd never just _let go_ of her dream that easily?

Erza chewed on her cheek. _This_ was why she didn't lie. She thought too much about it. When she'd been sneaking around the Constabulary pilfering equipment here and there things had been _easy_. No one ever _noticed_ that their things were missing and if they _did_ , they never asked her about it. No questions meant no lies. This, though. _Can you do it?_ Of course, she could. It wasn't honourable to lie but she was lying for a _good reason_ and so she was justified.

"Erza?"

"Yes?" Erza pulled at her pants once she was down to her T-shirt.

"What is this job?"

 _That_ stalled her up short. "Um…"

Eileen didn't call her on her lies but what she said next seemed so much worse than being labelled a liar. "You haven't even thought this through, have you?"

"Through enough. I'm out of a job and there is one for me at _Halo_."

"Illegal deals happen in _Halo."_ Eileen didn't say it like it mattered to _her._

Erza didn't know how to justify herself and so she tugged on a knife she rarely ever used. "You never seem to care about that when your clients are here."

"There is a lot you don't understand about what I do," Eileen said, suddenly cold and Erza was shamed into silence. Eileen stood and went to the door. She paused with her hand on the doorframe. "You'll do well to stay away from _Halo_ and Mister Fernandez. Hard times are coming to Magnolia's crime lords."

* * *

Hot water sloshed to and fro within the water skein and Laxus rolled it back and forth over the back of his hand while he walked. It felt good on his sore bones. The last person that had skipped on paying had not only a hard head but a rifle he'd brought down on Laxus' knuckles. They were bruised, not broken, but it was the kind of bruise that went bone-deep, the kind that actually didn't show on his skin. It hurt like a sonofabitch.

Down the hallway made of Birchwood, Bickslow stood leaning against the back wall. He had his arms crossed over his chest and his head tipped back. He still wore his dull black leather jacket with its shining metal studs, though it was _hot_ inside this part of the building below _Halo_ , and because of that, Laxus could see a bead of sweat trickle down his temple and straight over his cheek. On his jaw, it dangled and then fell, getting lost somewhere on the floor.

Bickslow's eyes came open when Laxus purposefully made his steps louder. He didn't like sneaking up on Bickslow. ' _Mad Hatter'_ was a name he'd earned. The man seemed to be less agitated today than he was normally because he didn't immediately reach for his gun. He waited to see who approached first. "Boss," he drawled when he'd identified Laxus.

"How is he?" Laxus asked.

Bickslow shrugged. "He was up puttering around earlier, talking to Fernandez's old lady and his old man, then he lifted Meredy's skirt and caught an eyeful before she scolded him. Had some blueberries after that, and a tea."

"Good. That's good. Listen, I need you to make a run for me." He adjusted, putting the heat press in his opposite hand so he could dig out a roll of cash from his pocket. He handed it over to Bickslow who flipped through the bills. "Natsu's coat got a little fucked up today, take him a new one. Throw some due backs in the pocket and see if he wants for much else, too."

"Natsu?"

"He's back in town," Laxus answered. "He's in the old fire building on Brigade Avenue."

"Not too original, is he?" Bickslow showed his teeth.

"Nope. Watch he doesn't shoot you. He was feeling a little tetchy last I saw him."

Bickslow straightened and adjusted his coat around his various guns. "If he does shoot?"

"Jellal wants him alive. Sorry about your luck." Laxus couldn't tell if Bickslow was appalled by the idea of death or not. There was that fierce and manic glint to his eye that had first persuaded Laxus to offer Bickslow a job after the man had won a poker game in the back room of _Halo_ , cheating volatile Zancrow out of a few cool bills. The win had cost him; he'd earned a gun's butt to the forehead which had torn his skin badly enough that he scarred. Despite that, Bickslow hadn't stopped there, though Zancrow had an entourage of armed men. No, Bickslow had pulled his gun and shot them all dead. Jellal had come into the room before Laxus, looked around and walked right back out, telling Laxus to ' _deal with it_.' Hiring Bickslow on wasn't what Jellal had meant but to Jellal's credit, he hadn't balked or even uttered a word the next day when Bickslow showed up to breakfast in his dingy cigarette-smelling and well-loved leather jacket, one step behind Laxus.

"I'll take care of it."

"And get someone else down here," Laxus added.

"Sure, boss," Bickslow said before meandering down the hall with a tune on his lips. Laxus waited for him to round the corner then entered the room Jellal had given up for Makarov Dreyar. It smelled like cinnamon tea and tobacco inside and lady's perfume. Laxus found the source of the latter by the head of the bed. She was busty and in very little clothing as she kneeled behind Laxus' grandfather, fingers kneading into his shoulders. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder like tendrils of midnight, purest black against her dusky skin. Makarov's eyes had been closed but he opened them when he heard Laxus.

"What?" He might have looked old and frail but Makarov's voice still cracked with stubborn authority.

Laxus pointed at the girl and then toward the door. She got up without complaint and dropped a kiss on Makarov's cheek. On her way by, she brushed Laxus' shoulder and smiled. Daphne knew how to earn her keep and treated everyone with the same lust she treated _everything_.

"I was enjoying that," Makarov grumbled.

"And now you're not," Laxus said and brought the heating pad in. The bed behind his grandfather's back was still depressed by Daphne's knees. She'd been there for some time. "I told you, you can't monopolize all of her time."

"Why not?" Makarov replied. "She likes spending time here."

"Jellal pays her to keep people happy," Laxus replied. "As in paying customers. Not surly, freeloading old men trying to get a boner."

"Who's trying? We went for a round today," Makarov said. He seemed a _little_ too proud of that so Laxus was inclined to believe him.

"Congratulations, your dick remembered what it's for, now lie back and keep quiet while I change this thing."

Makarov scowled but did as Laxus asked and Laxus was able to grab the morphine drip from the nightstand beside the bed and hook it up to start anew.

"And how are Mister Fernandez's aspirations coming?" Makarov wondered idly as Laxus flicked the tube and got the drip going.

"We hit up the Den today," Laxus said. "Zeref'll be coming by soon I suspect."

Makarov sighed and Laxus knew he was lamenting retirement. Giving over the name the Dreyar's had made for themselves had been a tough decision but it was either allow themselves to be annexed by Jellal and his growing syndicate or be obliterated. For Laxus, who hadn't at first thought he wanted much to do with the family business, it became apparent what his course of action was when it came down to brass tacks. He put on the negotiator hat—a hat he hadn't thought he was capable of wearing—and quit the Dragon's Den, to Zeref's chagrin. He didn't catch flak for it because of politics. Politics, politics. They made Laxus' life difficult and kept him from taking a dive off Monette's point when he'd walked into the underground hole Zeref had called his own three some odd years ago and told him the news. Zeref had been good about it; there was no covert hit, no accidents. Just business. Cordial.

Laxus sold himself and the family business to Jellal for two cool concessions: a spot by his side, meaning not getting sucked into the hole of nameless goon number three—he got a salary and a say on everything that happened, and he had a spot for his grandfather, who was quickly being taken hostage by Time and her cruel ways.

"I don't know if Zeref will be as willing to come under Jellal's employment as we were."

"The way I see it, he's got two options," Laxus said on his way to the mini fridge. "Either he does this and survives or he gets flattened like the other gangs are going to be."

Makarov looked at him from beneath his bushy brows. "You know something about these attacks, boy?"

Laxus came out of the fridge with a glass of juice and a mini bottle of Jellal's whisky. It was good, rich and peaty and expensive. His grandfather held out his hand for the whisky; Laxus gave him the juice and got the side eye.

"Are you going to deprive an old man?"

"An old, dying man that shouldn't be drinking too much?" Laxus prosed as he cracked the bottle and took a sip.

"Did you hear the part about dying?" Makarov asked.

Laxus sighed and handed over the bottle. "When it's convenient."

"Yes, I just have cancer whenever the hell I feel like it," Makarov spat.

"You were feeling good enough to put it on that mocha queen, weren't you? Or were you lying?"

Makarov muttered and took most of the bottle back. "Where's the rest?"

"One a day old man," Laxus said. "And even that might be too much."

Makarov grumbled some more.

"I'll check on you again later," Laxus said.

"You're not going to stay?" The irritation was gone out of his voice.

"Got work to do," Laxus said and felt a little bit guilty. His grandfather was down there by himself for most of the day almost every day. "I'll come back with some takeout."

"Bacon burgers?"

They'd had them last night, and three nights before that. Laxus didn't bother telling his grandfather, _'you're not supposed to have so much grease._ ' The old man knew it all on his own. "I'll get something good."

When Laxus opened the door, Acnologia stood on the other side, his fist raised. In the hand that hung at his side, he carried a bottle of red wine and two glasses. The wine had already been opened. "Laxus."

"Sir," Laxus said and hated the way he sounded like a loyal dog. It had taken a long time getting used to calling Jellal something respectful but this interloper from another country that hadn't earned his place there or his respect?

Politics.

Laxus played the game.

"Heh," Makarov said from the bed. "You did come back. And you brought the wine."

"Don't give him too much," Laxus told Acnologia. "He's already had whisky." And to his grandfather, he said, "Let me know if you need anything."

Makarov waved him off. "Don't be an old hen."

Laxus shook his head as he exited. Sawyer waited out in the hallway where Bickslow had been. He'd hit the bottle; his hair was back to being that unnaturally bright blonde.

"Pay attention," Laxus said, motioning toward the room where Acnologia now pulled up a chair and sat down.

"Sir," Sawyer acknowledged.

"And don't let Gramps drink too much wine."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

Despite being below ground, the segment of _Halo_ Jellal reserved for his most treasured guests wanted for nothing; it wasn't dingy, it wasn't filled to the brim with spiders and their sticky and silky webs, it wasn't crawling with millipedes. It smelled like pine and cinnamon and had enough lights overhead to light up the Magnolia sky on Founding Day. And even if it _didn't_ , the light from the artificial stars he'd used his magic to create, a mural on the ceiling that was activated whenever the room was entered, would keep the place bright enough.

Jellal found his mother in the room he usually reserved for himself. She sat on the butter coloured Chippendale sofa and the carved mahogany brought out the gold in her curled hair. She looked tanned and well-rested despite being on the lam, and when she saw Jellal, her brown eyes glowed and her pink mouth came up in one of the most inviting smiles he'd ever seen.

 _"_ _Piccola stella."_

" _Madre."_

She rose from the couch in a swirl of expensive perfume and the _shush_ of satin and brought him into her arms like no time and _too much_ had passed. The kiss she left on his cheek was loud and wet with lipstick. She leaned back and smiled. "You're even more handsome than the last time I saw you."

Jellal smiled. "And I see Alvarez has treated you kindly."

"Before your father and I were chased out, you mean?"

Jellal sighed.

"It was wise to separate yourself from us, though the day you took a new name and left Alvarez was a hard one for your father."

He'd heard all about it but to be Acnologia's son was to paint a target on his head. Leaving the country and starting his own business somewhere new, somewhere _outside_ of his father's long, overbearing reach, with a new name and no affiliation was the best thing Jellal had ever done. So he had to start from the bottom. So what? The climb to the top had been quick and relatively painless. Magnolia had an abundance of violence but no one to endorse it. It had a lot of drugs, too, but none worth taking, none that wouldn't leave you lying face down in the gutter with last night's dinner on your shirt _every time_ it was taken. He'd rectified that and made good money from it, just as his father had done.

Acnologia was successful and had always been so careful; surely an unlikely victim. Jellal didn't understand how things went so badly for him. "Tell me what happened." Because his father wouldn't.

"Serena wanted more of your father's land. Your father said no. He came back with another offer: your father pays a tax like every other dealer in Alvarez and again, your father said _no._ Serena punished him for being insolent and burned everything we had." Before he could say anything, Anna intuited his reaction and said, "Don't be angry, Jellal. Your father risked a lot coming back to the burning house and saving me."

"Generous of him."

"It was. The fire was bad." She looked sad. "A lot of men and women died."

"You're right. He could have left you. I'm glad he returned and you were saved."

"The police think we're dead," Anna said absently. "There is that."

Maybe when he was small Jellal would have thought it was strange to be thankful that the police thought that they were dead. He'd long ago stopped pretending that Constabularies were made up of good men. The only time Constables saw grey was when they lived in it. Otherwise, it was black and white and the law was enforced with brutal efficiency.

"I said then he was too ambitious." Jellal pulled away from her and went to the bar on the far side of the room, beneath a spiral arm of the Milky Way. "And I was right." He made himself another mint julep and one for his mother, too. "He's crossed Serena and then if that weren't bad enough, he's spread himself too thin and allowed himself to be undermined. It's embarrassing."

"You're too hard on him."

Jellal came back to her and gave her the drink. "Am I?"

Anna looked toward the ground; her lashes kissed her cheek. "I asked him to spend more time at home."

Her confession left a sour taste in Jellal's mouth. Everything was always easier whenever he decided his father had no redeeming qualities. He couldn't deny that Acnologia loved Anna, though. "You're too good for him."

She took the drink he offered and said, "Your father and I are more alike than you know."

"You're nothing like him."

She laughed. "I, too, left my old family behind, Jellal. I turned my back on everything I knew and have done incredible, terrible things to get ahead in this hard life."

"Don't be hard on yourself, Anna, _il mio amore_ ," said a new voice.

Jellal wasn't entirely surprised to see his father when he turned but it was unsettling to know that age hadn't dampened his stealth. Acnologia came into the room and dropped a kiss to Anna's cheek and looked at Jellal in a way that made him wonder how much of their conversation was heard. "Anything can be justified when you do it for love."

Anna's smile _was_ genuine. It was also sad. It wasn't an expression Jellal was used to seeing his mother wear. That being said, he hadn't seen her in seven long years and while that might not _seem_ very long in the grand scheme of things, it might as well have been an eternity. He had no idea how to read her now because he had no idea what kinds of hardships she had to endure before returning to Fiore. He had no idea what it was like to wake up in the middle of the night to flames and have to leave all of her things, clothing, jewellery, keepsakes, money, and flee in their Mercedes-Benz 300SL. He had no idea what it must have felt like for her, not just drifting but _racing_ away from all of the comfort his always-but-no-longer-in-control-father had made for her. He had no idea what it was like for her to shuck off the family name that had always granted her protection and take on an anonymous moniker like _Heart_ and live like the once-rich-but-recently-poor did.

Jellal sighed internally. He had no doubt both of them would wrack up the bills at the country clubs. He fully expected them to mingle and interfere and _scheme_ like they had in Alvarez. It was what they'd always known and they'd both fight to bring that life back. Or at least to mould the one they had now into something vaguely familiar. And his father at least would expect him, Jellal, to foot the bill. And he _would_ until it no longer made sense. Anything to keep his father busy.

Acnologia squeezed Anna's shoulders. "We'll meet upstairs at eight for dinner?"

Anna smiled and the corners of her eyes crinkled. "Will you join us, Jellal?"

He'd rather do almost anything else but he inclined his head. "I'd love to."

Acnologia abandoned Anna and wrapped his arm around Jellal's shoulders. "Come. We've things to discuss."

There was no other option. Jellal followed his father out of the room. Acnologia said, "We need somewhere private to speak. Some place I can be comfortable afterward."

Jellal didn't ask for an explanation; he knew his father's habits well and brought him into his own private bar at the opposite end of _Halo's_ underground reach. He took a flat kind of pleasure seeing that the floors were polished to a high sheen, the Birchwood the only bright thing in _Halo's_ halls, aside from the few gilded paintings he'd commissioned from Meredy. She no longer busked on the streets during the day and she didn't stand on just _any_ corner at night, but she still made the most beautiful art, sunsets and bleeding hearts and roses so red, blood was pale beside them. He knew; he'd seen it.

The walls were dark as tar to better hide the blood stains now, on the odd occasion when it would accumulate them, and the ceiling was painted much the same. Lights dripped from the ceiling like rain, a hundred small bulbs on a hundred small cords strung up and shining brightly. Jellal walked with seeming confidence in front of his father and indeed, did he think that he would be shot in the back? Not here, not now. Acnologia needed him and his generosity.

His private bar had a small stage, lined with more string lights, where a piano sat. Some nights, it was a violin. Some nights, it was a girl that danced. Tonight, it was empty. Across from the stage was a small collection of tables, not too many, five in total with two chairs at each—that was as many people as Jellal ever wanted in his sanctuary—and behind that was a bar with a live edge to the maple countertop. It was polished and clean and reflected Jellal and his tattoo back at him as he moved behind it and grabbed his father's favourite scotch from the shelf and poured them both a drink. Acnologia accepted his and tasted it while Jellal just steepled his fingers and looked down at the amber fluid.

"Your mother has a flare for the dramatic that she's hidden well over the years," Acnologia said when he'd swallowed.

"Serena didn't gut your business and chase you out of Alvarez?"

"It's a little more complicated than that."

"Then let me simplify it for you. Your force is _dead_. You have _nothing_. No money, no product, nothing, and the man they called _God_ is basking in the husk your business has become. It's shameful."

Acnologia's fingers tightened on his tumbler so much, Jellal thought it was either going to break or he was going to be dodging glass. Then Acnologia's face smoothed. "Your _madre_ is safe now, that's all that matters."

"And you'll just start again here in Fiore?" Jellal pressed.

Acnologia's eyes were like blades. "Does my son not want me here?"

"The market isn't so large."

"I know you do good business, Jellal," Acnologia said. "Good enough that Magnolia could support _two_ of us, don't lie. But," He held up his hand when Jellal began to interrupt. "I don't want to compete. I want everything to be as it once was, when we worked together. It'll be good for the family."

Jellal's list of _do not wants_ was expanding. He very, very much did _not_ want his father roaming around _Halo_. He did not want to share profits. He did not _want_ his father here saying things like, _It'll be good for the family._ '

He wanted to send both Acnologia and Anna on their way, he wanted to squeeze Zeref out of his precarious perch, he wanted to figure out _who_ was covertly sending his clientele into a panic because violence was good business. Fear was not, and this assassin _was_ breeding fear. Two members of Mermaid's Heel had called it quits. Both were gunned down in the streets before they could leave their gang very far behind but _still_. There would be ones that would escape and if all the gangs started disbursing, that would significantly cut into Jellal's profits.

Jellal frequently played poker and he kept his hand tight to his chest, not allowing his father to see how _unenthralled_ he was with this whole idea. He picked up the phone behind the bar and made a call upstairs. It was Minerva that answered. "Send Daphne down," Jellal told her and hung up. He met his father's eyes while he undid the cap on the bottle of scotch again and doled out another two finger's worth. "For the family, _Padre_."

"You are good to us, _mio figlio_ ," Acnologia said like he hadn't expected another answer. He stood and reached over the bar to pull Jellal into one of the coldest hugs Jellal had ever been gifted. He returned it with the same sort of enthusiasm.

"I am."

The door opened and Daphne entered in something small and light blue. She always dressed nicely; Jellal didn't have to worry about her failing to impress. His father saw the woman with her dark skin and didn't balk like other men might have, his eyes lit up in pleasure. He'd always enjoyed exotics. Wine, whisky, and women. It was why his wife was pale skinned and honey haired.

"Help yourself," Jellal said, putting the bottle of scotch on the counter. "I'll tell _madre_ you'll join us for dinner late."

Daphne put herself in Acnologia's lap and Jellal left them both behind.


	5. Chapter 5

Morning light filtered through the bathroom's high window. Orange drapes took the colour and intensified it a hundred times until it was one of the purest things Erza had ever seen. In its glow, she took her time, meticulously brushing out her hair and then curling it. She was halfway through the process when she decided that it was looking like she was trying too hard and she started over, wetting her hair all over again and brushing it flat. It was dried with her mother's hairdryer, and then she brushed it all back into a bun and only her bangs were free. She thought that should be enough but when she looked at herself in the mirror, she looked so… stiff. She took it out and tried on her fedora with her hair loose. That made her look very unprofessional. She did her hair up again, this time putting it in a low ponytail and called it quits.

After that, she brushed her cheeks with foundation and that was all the makeup she allowed herself. Who knew what the men at _Halo_ would be like? If they'd look at her too long like some of the men at the Constabulary did, not because they thought she looked good but because she was like a circus to them? An oddity?

She shook out the suit Jellal had left for her. It looked perfect after an ironing but she hesitated before putting it on. It felt like a momentous occasion. _Undercover_. She got chills just thinking about it.

A knock came on the front door and Erza froze with her feet in the pant legs. "Yes?"

"Erza?"

Mira's voice was muffled but Erza would recognize it anywhere. "Hang on!" She tugged her pants on with less ceremony and tucked her undershirt into the waist. She stopped there, though there were more layers to go, and went to answer the door.

Mira was ready for work in a light blue dress and a pair of white Mary Janes. Her platinum hair was held back by a black bow and her lashes were hugely long, thick and dark with the makeup she'd applied. Her brother waited for her in his green Dodge; its engine was so loud; Erza almost didn't hear Mira's appreciative whistle when she took in Erza's slacks. "Where did you get those from?"

Erza smoothed her hands over the material. "They… were a gift."

Mira's brow went up. "A gift?"

Erza tried to keep it cool. "I start a new job today and my employer sent them by."

"A new job already?" Mira asked. "I was just coming by to say sorry about your old one."

Erza shrugged again. "I just—"

Somehow, Mira made the connections and zeroed in. "Holy crow. You took the job at _Halo_."

Erza felt the blood rush to her head. "Quiet, Mira!"

Mira's eyes got wide like medallions as her suspicions were confirmed. She grabbed Erza's wrist and squeezed tight. "You _did_?"

"Shut up." Erza looked around; there was no one to hear them but _still_.

"I'm sorry! It's just—"

"You can't say _anything_ ," Erza told her firmly. "Nothing. Not to anyone. Ever." She kept adding emphasis and wished she hadn't said a thing. Mira was damned good at learning secrets but could she _keep_ one? "Promise me."

"Alright," Mira said a little too quickly. Erza looked at her skeptically. Mira held her hand over her heart. "I promise."

Erza believed her a little more. She let the air out of her lungs. Out on the street, Elfman honked the horn and Mira waved him off. "What does Gray think about it?" Erza hesitated and Mira again saw through her. "You haven't told him yet."

"Not yet."

"But you're going to."

"...Of course, I am." She admitted, "I just don't know how to yet."

"Do you think he's going to be mad?" Mira gushed.

Elfman honked the horn again and Mira scowled over her shoulder. Erza took advantage of the situation. "You should get going; Elfman is going to be late and so are you."

Mira sighed. "I wish you were coming in. Maybe Chief Briggs will get fired and you can come back; you're better than _Halo_. I'm going to write a letter to the Commissioner and petition to get you hired again. I know Elfman will sign it and Gray will, too. Freed, probably and—"

"It's okay, Mira," Erza said and tried to look both touched and contrite and proud, too. "I don't want to go back there if that's the way they're going to treat me."

Mira's smile was bittersweet. "I'm going to do it anyway."

"Mira—"

Elfman laid on the horn, long and hard. Mira darted forward and planted a kiss on Erza's cheek. "Say hello to Mister Fernandez for me. Don't let him bully you. Or take advantage of you. Or if you're going to, I want to know everything—"

"Go, Mira." Erza started to close the door.

"Hang on." She placed her hand on the door and kept it open. "Come out with me tonight. To Rose's. We'll celebrate your new job, just me and you. Girl's night."

Erza opened her mouth to decline but held her tongue last-second, not because she thought it would be fun, though it _might_ be, but because it would be good to keep someone like Mira on the inside. She had Gray, sure, but Mira would tell her all the things that Gray didn't think were important and she wouldn't even have to pump Mira for information. "Alright."

"What time are you done?" Mira asked.

Who knew? She didn't even know if Jellal's offer still _stood,_ she'd find that out when she showed up on his doorstep, though she thought he wasn't joking all those times he asked her to quit the Constabulary. "I'll call you."

Mira waved her fingers and wiggled—and Erza used that term very accurately, Mira didn't just walk in her high heels, she twitched hurriedly, half-walking in a way that looked both rushed and elegant—down the driveway. Elfman had the truck rolling; Mira had to run to pull open the door and when she got in, Erza heard her voice crack like a whip, scolding her brother for rushing her. Erza rolled her eyes and closed her door. She turned and saw that despite their disagreement the night before, her mother had left the keys to the Skylark on the kitchen table and a note that said simply, ' _Be safe._ ' Erza put both in her pocket and went back to finish dressing.

* * *

It was too early for poker but there he was. His grandfather had woken at five with the worst bout of pain Laxus had seen him experience yet and he stayed with the old man until it passed. It wasn't pretty and it wasn't nice and he wished more than anything that he was brave enough to take out his gun, his _favourite_ gun, his Model 29 Smith and Wesson. The .44 Magnum round would do everything painlessly and he wouldn't have to feel that sick, heavy weight in his chest every time his grandfather's face went white with pain.

He couldn't ever do it. Some days, though, he came close.

"I had a phone call last night," Makarov said from behind his hand of cards.

"People call you still?" Laxus asked, half-serious.

"Precht Gaebolg."

The funny thing Laxus had been working on dried up. "Yeah?"

Makarov's brows were drawn when he glanced up. "Yes. He didn't want to talk to me, though. He was interested in what you were doing. I told him if you wanted to have a conversation, you'd meet him tonight at the tracks." Neutral ground full of wide-open field. It would make it difficult for anyone to sneak up on them.

Laxus knew the poker room well. He _knew_ that there were no bugs in it. He _knew_ it was safe to talk in there. It still made him twitch, though, to speak so openly. He said, "He always had too much to say," and left it at that. Anything else felt like a betrayal and it was unwise to cross Jellal, especially in his own house.

Makarov laid down four of a kind and took the whisky Laxus had put up for collateral. Laxus put his straight flush face-down without complaint. "Guess it's my turn to deal."

* * *

 _Halo_ was more than it seemed. Erza knew that. She'd never been inside the front of it herself, only the back and only through the secret entrance Jellal brought her through on her last visit, where she'd been confined to one of his private rooms, but everything she'd ever heard about the restaurant and bar endorsed that claim. She'd heard some of the men from the Constabulary talk about the nights they'd raid the place. They never found drugs or illegal dealings but she knew that _Halo_ was full of girls with classic chassis, girls who the men said had rounded heels from falling back on beds too much, girls who were chosen for employment because they were beautiful, because, like Jellal, they had a natural charisma that made people want to like them.

As Erza approached _Halo_ 's brick front and looked upon the frosted front windows, she wondered if that was true. Would she walk in and be inundated and intimidated by beauty? Or were the constabulary men just easy to please?

She was ridiculously nervous reaching for _Halo's_ tarnished handle. Her fingers brushed brass and then it was torn away from beneath her hand. She swallowed a yelp and looked up, up into a mostly unfamiliar face. Jellal and this man both had pronounced features, their noses, and cheekbones, their jaws the same. The colour of their hair and the hazel of their eyes. Both were marked with tattoos and Erza got the impression that it meant more than just rebellion, though _what_ she didn't know.

"Yes?" His voice was roughed silk like Jellal's, too, almost not nice to listen to but at last second, there was a hitch that drew her back down, down, into some place deep and dark and lulling. "Can I help you?"

Erza cleared her throat. "I'm looking for Jellal. Mister. Mister Fernandez."

His brows went up and Erza didn't think it was in amusement. "We're closed today."

"Closed?"

"Come by tomorrow."

"Which do you think, _Padre_?" Erza heard Jellal's voice and looked around the broad shoulders blocking her path. Jellal came into the room with his head down. His hair was messier than it usually was and he wasn't in his customary suit. Well, not exactly. He'd ditched the jacket or he hadn't donned it yet. He was in a white pinstripe shirt, the cuffs of which were rolled up to his elbows. Its bottom was tucked into a pair of black slacks and on his feet were plain black socks. He held in his hand two paintings, the subject matter in both redder than red, a pair of high heels, the toes pointing away from the viewer, and the heart of a rose. Most of its innards were shadowed with just the outside of the petals showing red. Both were beautiful and both, somehow, worked into Erza's heart and gave her chills.

" _Padre_?" Jellal looked up and scoured the room. His eyes came to the door and locked with Erza's. His mouth broke into a Cheshire grin that made Erza, foolishly, want to blush. She adjusted the ends of her suit jacket and wondered if she'd been presumptuous in wearing it. "Miss Scarlet. You can let her in. Apologies. This is my father, Acnologia. Mister Fernandez."

Acnologia's face twitched, betraying _some_ displeasure Erza didn't yet understand. "You know this woman?"

"Of course. She's the one I told you about, _Padre._ The _Scarlatta."_ His grin got wicked and Erza prepared herself. "Apple of my eye. She tried to steal my car and I've never been able to get her out of my head. Shot me through my heart."

"Stop," Erza said firmly and Acnologia's mouth twitched again. She struggled to decide if it was humor or displeasure. She'd never had a harder time reading a man.

Jellal didn't look discouraged, though he _did_ stop whatever other silly proclamations he was gearing up for next. "As the lady wishes."

"Your _madre_ is waiting for me. Miss Scarlet." Acnologia inclined his head and stepped back. Jellal stepped forward and took his place. He leaned against the doorframe and Erza again thought he was a cad, with his devil-may-care smile and the amusement in his eyes, the pleasure, too. He held up the pictures he was holding.

"What do you think, Erza, the rose or the shoes?"

Feeling tetchy, Erza said, "I'm partial to the shoes."

"The shoes? Why's that?"

She blurted, "I like to imagine whoever was wearing them was walking away from you." As soon as she finished speaking, she clamped her lips together, mortified. Jellal didn't get mad like she feared. He laughed and it was one of the purest things she'd ever heard.

"You're the only one that's dared, so far, and if I'm not mistaken, you walked back."

She almost walked out right there. Then she recalled that goddamn doll in the back of Chief Briggs' car and put some of her pride away. "I was hoping that the position you offered me would still be open."

Jellal lifted the paintings and examined them, acting like he hadn't heard her. "You really like the shoes, huh? I liked the rose. The colour, mostly. I thought the shoes were too bright..."

"I didn't come here to discuss art, Mister Fernandez." Erza felt twitchy standing on the street, half afraid of someone driving by and recognizing her. She told herself that it didn't really matter. One way or another, word was going to get out that she was fired from the Constabulary and that she'd ended up here, where everyone had said she _would_ —to her chagrin. Still. She felt like she was doing something wrong, which was perhaps the best way she could feel, she supposed, if she was in the business of making Jellal believe that she'd come there honestly, looking for work. Looking like she was afraid of getting caught doing something wrong is exactly how she suspected a one-time constable gone rogue would look. Nervous. Uncomfortable. "Is the job available or not?"

Jellal chose the painting of high heels. "This one it is. I was thinking about putting it up by your station. I'm glad you showed up in time to have a say."

Erza felt her ears get hot and her heart beat off key twice. "Yeah?"

Jellal leaned out of the doorway; when he straightened again, he'd relieved himself of the paintings. He reached out and wrapped his free arm around Erza's shoulder, guiding her inside. "It's what I said, isn't it, doll?"

"I just didn't know if you changed your mind…"

"Never about you."

He sounded sincere enough to make her already hot ears get _hotter_. Erza wriggled from beneath his arm; it felt suddenly too intimate, though she remained at his side. He smelled like pine pomade again, and cologne, cigar's, too. Jellal's eyes came her way. He didn't try to pull her back in; he smiled, though, rakishly, and it worked its way all the way into her bone marrow. She stopped focusing so much on him and took in _Halo_ instead; it didn't make her feel so _strange_.

Here in the front, the building was exactly as Jellal promised it was. A small restaurant that was only open for dinner. The ceilings were wood tanned gold, the floor, too. There was a large oak bar at its front, and behind that was a closed in kitchen. Erza counted thirteen tables in the dining room, all of them capped with white table cloths, and on the walls were red. Red paintings, red drapes, red beads.

"What do you think?"

"I think, what do you need to hire muscle for, Mister Fernandez? This seems like a quaint place. I don't imagine you get much trouble here."

She was fishing and Jellal knew she was. "I need it for the back, where all of my dirty, illegal business happens. All the stuff I don't want the coppers to find out about."

It took Erza some time to realize that he was leading her on. She turned her mouth down. "You're not very funny."

"You're not very subtle," he said. He stopped short and pulled her around. He was as serious as he had been when she'd hijacked his car and made him follow Zeref into the parking garage on Bristol Avenue, back when Zeref had been on the verge of killing her and Jellal had been on the verge of agreeing. Forgetting who he was that day was a _mistake_. Erza's heart beat for a new reason as he said, "I want to make something clear. I'm not hiring you on so you can dig up some gross tidbit of dirt and take it back to your Chief in hopes that he'll change how he feels and bring you back on the force, Erza. Believing that is what gets people hurt."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I'm making sure we understand each other," he said clearly. "I like you. I like you quite a bit. I don't like being used, though, not when I don't want to be. I offered to take care of your problem at the Constabulary and you declined. That's it, it's through. If you're here, you're here honest. Right?"

She was more than a little unnerved. She agreed, though, nodding her head, and Jellal relaxed his grip. He let his hand slide down her arm and continued on his way with Erza's hand locked in his. "I don't need muscle watching the restaurant, you're right, it's the gambling house that's the problem. Normally, Laxus would do the job I'm assigning to you, but he's busy more and more lately."

"Doing?"

"His grandfather isn't well," Jellal said vaguely. "He spends most of his time with him, meaning I have a gap in my force. One you'll fill nicely. You'll need to watch the tables for people cheating. Have you played poker?"

"A few times," Erza fibbed. Once, when she was small, one of her mother's clients taught her how to play.

He stopped again and looked at her plainly. "I didn't know you were a liar."

Erza sputtered.

"A bad one, too. I'll teach you."

"To lie or play poker?" Erza wondered.

"Both, if I'm any good at either," Jellal said offhandedly and started walking again.

There was a hallway to the right of the bar, at the back of which was washrooms, left for men's, right for women's. He brushed his back against the wall to the left and felt with his free hand. He must have pressed a button Erza didn't see because the next thing she knew, the wall was folding back and beyond was a hallway lined with small white lights. Jellal slipped in through the crack in the wall and Erza followed. The door clicked closed with Jellal's coercion and Erza felt like, despite the lights, it was incredibly dark and they were incredibly close. She was very aware of his fingers releasing hers and his hand hovering over her bicep, of his gentle breath near her neck.

"The gambling room is this way," he said in her ear. His voice had dropped the quality that Erza was fearful of and had taken on the one that made her skin raise in goosebumps and her mind like putty. She pulled away from him so they weren't so close and took a step in the direction he pointed. The small lights on the floors and walls were barely any match for the hallway. It didn't help that here, the floors and walls were blacker than pitch, save for the occasional twinkle on the ceiling that _could_ have been starlight were they outside. Jellal didn't need help navigating, no one knew _Halo_ like he did. He moved in front of Erza and she tagged behind, mostly following the sound of his socked feet, the swish of his expensive pants.

Just as her eyes were getting used to the low light, he opened a door Erza hadn't seen and the hallway was filled with smoke and golden light and voices. Erza blinked rapidly to bring everything into focus. The room was circular and small. In its center was an oval table where two men sat. Erza recognized Laxus immediately, across from him must have been his grandfather. They shared a similar look, their jaws firm and no-nonsense, their noses flared around the nostrils. Grey eyes that looked far more calculating than she was really comfortable with. The way Laxus looked at her made her wonder, always, what he was scheming. He was the type of man that played his cards tightly to his chest.

"Scarlet."

"Dreyar," Erza replied.

He had half of a smile for her and it wasn't put forward with much effort. "Joined the winning side?"

"I didn't join _any_ side," Erza said. "I'm just coming to do a job."

"You're going to wake up one day and realize that no job's neutral, Scarlet. One way or another, you're picking sides. Trick is, you gotta pick the right one." Laxus fanned out his cards and said to his grandfather, "I win, old man."

"You cheat, you mean."

"Learned from the best." Laxus stood and directed his attention to Jellal. "Are we still closing _Halo_ tonight?"

"Seems like."

"Why?" Erza asked and three sets of eyes landed on her. She wanted to shift uncomfortably but wouldn't allow for it.

Jellal gave her some semblance of an explanation. "An important colleague of mine wants to discuss business."

Erza was too curious for her own good. "What kind of business?"

And that was as far as she got, Laxus piping in to say, "The kind new girls don't get to hear about."

Jellal didn't defend her. Erza pursed her lips. "It's a secret?"

"It's not a secret. Just nothing I think you would be interested in. Land acquisition, the transfer of assets. Boring work." Jellal was looking at her just a little too sharply. Despite whatever sweet spot he had for her, he was practical first, and in the business of sniffing out rats.

"I just wanted to be sure you didn't need anything. One of my friends asked me to make the scene tonight and it would be nice to join her…" Erza hedged. She had never been more thankful for Mira's penchant for parties and hep spots.

"Enjoy yourselves," Jellal said. "Tomorrow, we will be running business as usual and I will need you in this room, watching my clientele. I'll get you suited up, send some nice things by your mother's with your name on it. How's that sound?"

Erza smoothed her hands over her suit and foolishly, for no reason she could decipher, felt her cheeks get warm.

Jellal was much better at reading people than Erza had given him credit for because he said, "You're fine in that, doll, but you got to have more than just one suit. You want something with a skirt or are slacks good for you?"

She imagined her self in a Jacques Fath suit and heard herself say, "Both?"

Jellal showed his teeth. "My pleasure. Shall we finish the tour?"

Erza took his offered arm and allowed Jellal to lead her out. This time, her eyes actually had time to adjust to the dim hallway. Soon, she could make out more paintings on the walls there, the lights over those the brightest.

"This is my office here." Jellal pointed to a room at the end of the hallway. "It's where you've been before. If you need something, you can find me there most days. If I'm not in there, Laxus will know where to find me." He slowed beside a wide set of doors he didn't bother opening. "This is the bar our more elite customers enjoy. If you find the poker room boring, I could move you in here. "

Both sounded kind of boring to Erza. She didn't go through all of the trouble to be the best of the best so she could watch rich men drink or gamble their money away. She put on what she thought was a good face. "I'll give it a try first."

Jellal navigated the hallway again. The floor dipped slightly and the hallway filled with doors. There weren't many, three in total. "These are guest rooms," Jellal said. " _Halo_ doesn't have many, just enough to accommodate anyone passing through."

"Business partners?" Erza nudged.

"Business partners," Jellal confirmed. "Anyone from out of town."

"Looking to buy weapons," she said because she assumed that Jellal would assume that she'd ask.

"Looking to make deals of various natures," he said smoothly.

Erza rolled her eyes. "Everyone _knows_ you deal weapons, even if they don't say it."

"Everyone thinks they know everything," he replied.

The air's scent changed and became chlorinated. Jellal reached for a door that brought them into a room almost as dark as the hallways were. In its center was a huge pool filled with water so black, it looked like the midnight sky. It could be, too, that the lights ignited at the bottom of the pool, illuminating it from the bottom up added to the illusion. "This area is open to you whenever. There's a door at the back that leads out to the alley you're familiar with. It's the same one Constable Fullbuster picked you up out of the other day."

Erza felt abashed; she hadn't realized that Jellal knew Gray waited for her that day. She covered it up. "I didn't see a door except the one that I came out of."

"It wouldn't be a secret if _anyone_ could find it, would it?" He crossed the room and the darkness almost ate his visage. Erza hurried along. The soles of her police-issued boots gripped the damp floor well and never deposited her in the water. At the other end of the pool, Jellal stopped and took Erza's hand without her permission. He ran her fingers along the wall, coming to a stop three inches to the right and six inches below a tiny, burning sun that Erza was sure was made from some kind of magic. There, she felt a depression. "That's the keyhole." Jellal reached into his shirt and took out a brass key. The sun burned brighter and illuminated the wall around it and Erza saw the brass insert he was talking about. When the door came open, it was in the center of a very familiar alley. Midday light blazed down from above, illuminating puckered concrete and plastic drink cups, shards of broken glass and graffiti that she hadn't been able to appreciate in the dark of night, a huge skull eating an entire galaxy. It was both ugly and pretty all at once.

Jellal pressed the key into her hand. "You can keep this."

Erza realized that she was being dismissed and it felt like she hadn't accomplished much of anything. "When should I show up tomorrow?"

"Nine."

"In the morning?" she asked and Jellal gave her the same laugh he had before, the one that wormed into her bones and made her hot and cold.

"At night."

It was so different from her usual shift. Then again, when she was working at the Constabulary, all she did was paperwork. She didn't get a _chance_ to do the night patrols. She was excited all over again. Stupidly. It sounded like a horrible shift. "Alright."

"Will you bring your bathing suit tomorrow?"

"Will I have _time_ to tomorrow?"

His eyes clung to her and his smile was mischievous. "There's always time for fun."

Erza harrumphed because she didn't know what else to say.

Jellal said, "Have a good time tonight. I'll get those suits to you and I'll see you tomorrow evening."

She ducked around him and dug the Skylark's keys from her pocket. It wasn't a far enough walk from the alley back to her car to sort out the messy knot of feelings in her chest as she left _Halo_ and Jellal behind.

* * *

"She's more than what she says she is."

Jellal continued to watch the alley where Erza disappeared, though it was empty. "Erza is many things."

"A liar amongst them."

"We're all liars, _Padre_. Every last one of us. Some are just better than others," Jellal said. Acnologia didn't pursue the matter. He left as silently as he'd entered. Laxus took his place shortly thereafter.

"Scarlet's gone?"

"For now," Jellal said and began to close the door. "You heard her say she's going out tonight with her friend?"

Laxus caught his meaning; he was always good without much direction. "Wouldn't you rather me here if Dragneel _does_ show up?"

Jellal shook his head. "Zeref doesn't have much force. He'll likely show with Sting and Rogue at his side, he'll sit and drink bourbon. He'll tell me he didn't appreciate the way I treated Natsu. And then he'll tell me to fuck myself. Politely, of course. Tonight won't be the night he makes a big play. It's a posture. He's hoping I'll go away. We can handle it."

"If you say so. You want me to lay low?"

"If Erza's worth her salt, which I think she _is,_ she'll know you're tailing her. Best not be secret about it, I don't imagine she'll like it very much." Jellal engaged the lock and faced Laxus. "Give her whatever she wants. If that includes you scaring off… do it, though make sure you find out why."

"If you're worried, I can take care of her. Stop the problem before it ever becomes one."

Killing Erza had never appealed to him. "If I wanted her dead I would have said so. Just… keep an eye on her. I don't want her pulling any tricks."

"Sure." Laxus looked like he'd sucked on a lemon.

"Not every problem needs a bullet to find a solution," Jellal reminded him.

"Every problem you don't want to ever be a problem again does."

"If that were the case, I would have done you in years ago. But here we are, gentleman and partners." Laxus wore his displeasure like a shroud and, without words, told Jellal everything he needed to know. "Everything is fragile enough with my father's arrival. I need you, Laxus. Tell me what you need to keep happy."

Laxus didn't stammer and fumble out ' _I'm satisfied_ s, or assure Jellal that he wasn't thinking he'd be better off _not_ employed by the man that had subsumed his family's business. He said, "If I need anything, I'll let you know," and that was better than what Jellal expected.


	6. Chapter 6

Erza wore a dress mostly because she knew Mira would complain if she didn't. It was a black contraption with a rushed waist and a bell of material that hung free below her left rib. It looked nice, she thought, but she wasn't comfortable. It wasn't even the clothes that made her that way, not exactly. She'd been teased when her mother bought Erza her first pair of slacks at seventeen that weren't capris or cigarette pants, but she wore them anyway. She'd been in more than one vocal altercation over them with men and women alike and it felt like going back to wearing a dress after she'd been _paid_ to wear slacks was stepping back, letting those people win. It was stupid, she knew it was stupid. They were winning by making her wonder if they were winning.

She wore her mother's platform heels and tied the ankle bows by the kitchen table. She finished pulling the ribbons tight when the phone hanging on the wall rang. She answered it on the third ring and Gray's voice greeted her.

"Hey. I'm just about to cut out. You want to get a bite?"

Erza let her breath out. "I can't."

"Can't?" Gray repeated.

"I told Mira we'd go out tonight to Rose's. Just us two."

She'd never ditched on Gray and gone out without him. She had seen men get jealous over her mother and prepared herself for a similar reaction. "She's looking for gossip?" he asked and Erza imagined a smile on his mouth. She relaxed.

"I guess. Getting fired is big news."

"Do you want me to pick you up and drop you off?"

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to," he said immediately. "Feels like I haven't seen you forever."

She felt ashamed that she'd been so busy that she hadn't noticed his absence. "It's not going to put you too much out of your way?" Maybe then she could actually talk to him.

"Not at all." There was noise in the background. Someone said something and Gray replied with, "Probably not."

"What's that?" Erza asked.

"Ultear's bugging."

"About what?"

"A bunch of the guys are going out tonight. She was asking if I was going to go."

It seemed like the perfect thing to alleviate some of Erza's guilt. "You should."

"Why would I do that when I've got a date to drive around a pretty lady?"

"That doesn't sound like fun." Erza cradled the phone against her shoulder and fixed her dress. "Rose's'll be a gas and you'll just be sitting in the parking lot waiting for us to come out, blitzed."

"You're going to get blitzed?" he asked teasingly.

"Why not?"

"Have you ever been drunk?"

"Sure," Erza said.

"And not at one of your mom's dinners when you chugged back one of her drinks accidentally?"

"That happened once." When she was thirteen. Her mother had laughed while for Erza, the room spun.

"And since then?"

Erza huffed. "Does it matter?"

"I just think that while you're telling me to go out and have fun, you should do the same. Forget about that crap with the Chief for a while."

Erza wished she could tell him the truth. The last time she'd lied to him, things had gone horribly awry for both of them. "How about this. You could drop us off, go out with the guys, and Mira and I'll grab a cab home. We'll both have a good time."

"Alright, I'll be there in twenty," Gray agreed with less fight than Erza expected; she could hear Ultear in the background again.

"See you then."

* * *

It didn't take Gray long to learn that Ultear wasn't _like_ other girls in a similar way that Erza wasn't. She was independent and was never afraid to speak her mind. She was confident and thought highly of herself. She knew what she wanted and Gray imagined that never in her life had she been afraid to reach for it.

She was different than Erza, too. She was meaner, for one thing. It wasn't in any one particular way, mind. It just… _was._ She always found some way to get a jibe in and he'd be damned if every time she did, his throat didn't close with something like anger.

That wasn't the end of her peculiarities. Sometimes, he'd catch her looking at Mirajane as she bent over to pick up her pen or adjust her shoe or some other nonsense and he'd swear she'd get a hungry look in her eye he'd never seen another woman wearing while she eyed one of her girlfriends. Sometimes, if she caught Gray looking, she'd turn the gaze on him and he'd want to sweat, pulling on his collar because he was uncomfortable like he hadn't been since he shared his first kiss with Lucy Heartfilia years ago.

Lucy… If Ultear and Erza were day and night… well, he couldn't even think of a metaphor for Ultear and Lucy, they were so different. Lucy would never have come into the bullpen and found Gray at his new (and old) desk and sit on its ledge. She would never have leaned back, one hand planted on the corner, the other lazily fixing his tie while he was on the phone with Erza, and rudely ask, "Are you going out with those Tom Cats tonight?" If she were Lucy, when Gray pushed her fingers aside and gave her a _what the hell_ look, she would have flushed and found somewhere else to be. Ultear? She smiled and it was like getting cut with glass.

"So? Are you coming?" she asked when the phone hit the cradle. Gray knew _she_ knew the answer but Ultear was the kind of girl that took satisfaction out of hearing the word, 'yes', and Gray, he took a kind of satisfaction of seeing her mouth curl up to one side and her eye twitch in a wink when he said it. She flitted away and he was glad.

He realized when he was coming out of the Constabulary he didn't have to undo his tie, Ultear had already done it for him. It was a simple act and it made him feel turned inside out. It was a feeling that got worse when he heard Mira's voice calling his name. He turned and caught sight of her racing out of the Constabulary. He thought she was about to accuse him of being sly on Erza and what would he say? Ultear was too forward and he hadn't figured out how to handle that yet? Mira would have him pulled apart before Erza ever got the chance.

Mira said, "Erza just called. She said you were driving us tonight."

Relief came with a gust of wind that fluttered the ends of his tie. "Yeah." He was glad to think and talk about something normal. Something he was _supposed_ to be thinking and talking about.

"Well, are you going to her house now?"

"That was the plan."

"Elfman's working a double." Mira hurried along and came on the other side of his truck. "You have to pass by my place anyway, right? Take me home? You can go pick up Erza while I'm getting ready."

Gray opened his door without complaint but he was thinking back to a time when the women in his life weren't so… He didn't finish the thought because it made him feel like a wet rag. He got in the truck and reached across the cab to get Mira's opened from the inside because sometimes it stuck. "Let's go, then," he said when it came open and Mira clambered up.

"Elfman's truck has seat belts," she said as soon as the door was closed.

"They're overrated." Gray put the truck in reverse and got underway. He was able to sneak out in front of a bread truck before they got caught.

"Elfman says they're safer."

Gray gave her a look that she returned. "Do you want me to drive you or not?"

"I just think that when you replace this truck, you should get one with seat belts. Especially if you're going to be cutting off bread trucks."

He wasn't thinking about replacing his father's truck. He loved it, dents and all; aside from the cottage, it was the only thing he had left of his old man. Mira started humming so Gray turned on the radio. She reached forward and turned it off before he could even identify the song. "I was listening to that."

"Not yet you weren't." She asked, "Has Erza said anything about jobs yet?"

"No," Gray said as he reached for the radio again. "She'll find something, though."

"What if she already has?"

"Nah. She would have said something." He turned the radio channel to the baseball game and tried to catch up. Mira turned the radio off again and Gray felt his irritation climb. " _What_ Mira? If you have something to say, just _say_ it."

"How about, _'Don't yell at me?'_ "

"If you weren't playing games and messing with my radio, maybe I wouldn't."

Mira's eyes got glassy and Gray couldn't tell if it was a ruse or not. He'd seen her get screamed at while working the front desk at the Constabulary. She poured on the waterworks and as soon as the man doing the yelling backpedaled and apologized, she'd shut the tears off. It was unnerving to watch.

Whether she was faking it or not, Gray tried for something sincerer. "Sorry. What did you want to say?"

Mira looked at him long and hard and lied straight to his face. "Actually, I forget."

"Mira—"

"Sorry. I'm just so ditzy." She was brimming with venom. Gray sighed and nosed the truck down a suburban street. The Strausses lived in a small bungalow that needed more work than not. Its shingles were curled and the walkway was cracked and the gravel driveway needed to be graded. The gardens, though, made a person forget about all that. Mira spent a lot of time in there, Gray knew. It seemed like every time he passed by, Mira was out there knee-deep in bursting Peruvian Lily, proud moonshine yarrow, and the climbing iceberg roses as white as her hair.

"I don't think you're ditzy, you know that. Did Erza say something to you about a job?"

"Nope," she said and threw open her door before the truck stopped rolling. "I'll see you in an hour." She got out and it was a marvel she didn't break her heel. The door slammed behind her and Gray stared after her until she got her front door open and slammed that, too. She was crankier than he'd seen her before, though he'd heard Elfman's tales of the demoness Mira could become. He put the truck in drive again and headed toward Erza's home. At the end of the street, he saw Lisanna stepping out of a rusted Ford. She looked up as Gray rolled by and she developed a stricken look that faded almost as soon as it came to her. Gray determined that it must have been a full moon because everyone was acting kookie.

Erza, at least, didn't pull any faces when he came into her driveway. She stood from the steps in a dress that got Gray's heart pumping and she smiled with lips red like strawberries. They didn't taste that way when he got out and she let her mouth brush his in hello, they tasted like only lipstick could, chalky, and below that, he got the cigarette she must have smoked earlier. She rarely partook in such things and Mira's odd behaviour came back to him.

"Have you done any job hunting?" Gray asked on a whim.

Erza's smile faltered. "Hunting? No. Why would you ask?"

Gray shook his head. "Just curious." He changed the subject to alleviate the troubled look on her face. "You look really, really good."

Erza smiled and it was less encumbered. "Do I?"

"The best thing I've ever seen." The apples of Erza's cheeks blushed and he loved it. Ultear's mischievous fingers were gone, Mira's strange behaviour dissolved along with Lisanna's disturbed look _._ "Mira said she's going to be an hour getting ready. Maybe you and me could get go out to the lake?"

Erza grinned. "Yeah."

* * *

Erza stood out in a crowd. She had a lust for life that was as admirable and endearing as it was annoying. Laxus watched her linger in her beau's truck while Mirajane Strauss twitched toward the door. Erza kissed her man with a vigor that Laxus thought would have Jellal daydreaming deadly things into Constable Gray Fullbuster's path. He supposed that was why he was there and not Jellal. He was a cool customer when it came to Erza Scarlet. Jellal said he didn't want her dead but he wouldn't have sent Laxus if he didn't want to make sure the necessaries were dealt with if something that needed that kind of action came up.

He pulled on a cigarette and filled his lungs. Mirajane walked by him without ever looking his way and not because he was trying to hide. She never looked for men in dark corners. Laxus never looked away from them. In his line of business, to do so was to end up dead.

Mira disappeared into the bar that had at one point in its life been a barn and the door of Gray's rusted and dented orange truck squealed closed. Erza exited looking slightly more dishevelled than when she'd entered it, Laxus would bet. The truck's transmission worked through the gears, grinding slightly when it stuck, and then it was rolling. Gray pulled out of view just as Erza's fingers touched Rose's door handle.

She didn't enter, though.

Unlike Mirajane, Erza _did_ look in dark corners and Laxus was impressed by her all over again. She stopped fixing her lipstick and fixated on him in the blink of an eye. Laxus drew on his cigarette and never broke away from the wall, even when she stomped over, unafraid, and got into his face. Used to be, she was nervous. The night he met her at Dutch's Garage and Eve was on the ground, soaked in gasoline, she'd been brave walking over but there was a warble in her voice. Now? He supposed she felt untouchable working for Jellal. He had a feeling that it wouldn't be long until she realized that _no one_ was untouchable, no matter your associations. Not underlings, not kings or queens.

"What are you doing here?"

"Smoking in some cedar bushes," Laxus offered, holding out his cigarette as proof. "Want one, doll face?"

Actually, it looked like she wanted to hit him. "Is he here?"

"He?"

"Jellal. Mister Fernandez," she corrected herself and Laxus bet if it was sunny, he'd see her neck flush.

"You want him to be?"

"What I want is a yes or no answer, not a cat chase."

"Just me here, but I think that's more than enough for you. You want to head on in, I'll buy you a drink?" he teased. Erza's middle finger was delivered with much more gusto than Natsu Dragneel's had been. Laxus laughed. "No worries, doll, I'm not here to see if you're easy."

Erza said, "How many girls make you wear their drink, Dreyar?"

"Most are smart enough never to try."

She looked like she was gunning to be the exception. "Why are you here?"

"Just out for a drink. Coincidence, running into you."

"Like hell."

He winked. "You want to believe I'm out here making sure the boss's new girl is safe?"

"I've never needed anyone to take care of me, and Mister Fernandez wouldn't have hired me if he thought I did," she said and it was like she was fishing for him to give her another answer.

"Dunno what he's thinking most days. But I really am just here for a drink. Have a good time." He waved.

Erza stayed where she was to say, "I can't make you leave Rose's but don't come near me."

"I wouldn't refuse a lady if she asked for my company," Laxus said and Erza's plump lips flat-lined.

"Never. Never would I ever." She turned from him and walked quickly back to the door; she left a trail of perfume and hairspray in her wake and her dress twisted pleasingly around her legs. He could see why Jellal was interested, sure, but that girl was more apt to punch you in the face than give you a kiss. He dropped his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out before entering, determined to find a dame her opposite.

* * *

Jellal was aware of his father's eyes as he fixed a satin bowtie around his throat in a mirror that was tall and narrow. The man stood with his back leaning against the doorframe of Jellal's new and less-good room. There was a look of judgement on his face as there _always_ was and Jellal chewed his cheek, debating the pros and cons of opening up this can of worms before asking, "Are you angry I told Erza you were a Fernandez?"

All Acnologia needed was a little bit of prodding. "That's not my name." Pride was Acnologia's enemy, as it was Jellal's.

"You're here, aren't you?" Jellal asked. "As long as you're here and as long as you're my father, this city will call you Fernandez."

Acnologia looked like he wanted to spit on the ground. He moved on, though, and voiced his opinion of Erza. "You do yourself a disservice putting the _Scarletta_ in the poker room. If you want respect, you'll remove her."

"I'm not sure what that has to do with respect."

Acnologia didn't mince words. "The men will laugh at her and you. It's asking for trouble."

"Noted."

"And dismissed."

"Erza will take care of herself," Jellal replied. "And anyone that harasses her, too, I'd imagine."

"Until they all see a girl and not an enforcer and decide that she needs to remember what she's good for."

Jellal's fingers twitched into a fist and out again. "That will never happen. Not to her and not here. Anyone that thinks otherwise will be taught differently immediately."

"If you wanted her respected, you should not have given her a gun."

"It's because I respect her that I have," Jellal countered.

"I never would have asked something like that of your mother."

Jellal bit back his words because he knew his father might have fucked whores strung out of his mind but he did it because, in his own way, he respected Anna. It was a view from his country of birth and it seemed to serve him well.

"Sir."

Jellal looked and realized that the doorway was filled with Sawyer. He was annoyed because he asked for very specific people to interrupt him here in his personal room but also because Sawyer was looking at Acnologia as he spoke. Jellal had no illusions about his father; the man commanded respect everywhere he went but here in his own house? The only Sir Sawyer should have been addressing was him, Jellal.

"What is it, Sawyer?" Acnologia asked before Jellal could, making him angrier still.

"Mister Dragneel is here. He's brought Mister Eucliffe along, too."

Just as Jellal suspected. "I'll be out in a moment."

"He requested that Miss Aguria be allowed entry, too."

"He brought Angel?" It had been months since Angel slipped off the radar. Jellal almost missed the spot she used to keep warm on occasion. "Bring her chair in for her."

"She has crutches today."

Angel would. Didn't matter that it hurt or that she'd need a lot of help getting up and down stairs, she'd want to look good. "What are you standing here for, then? Go get her."

Sawyer inclined his head and disappeared. Acnologia said, "He brought her because she seems weak. It's a ruse."

"Yes, I know, _Padre_." Jellal couldn't help but sound exasperated. "If he didn't send Angel in here packing, I'd be disappointed. It's what I would do." Acnologia's thoughts on that trick were obvious. All Jellal had to do was think back to his assessment of Erza and he knew his father thought it was a mistake to arm her. "Are you coming or staying here?" Jellal asked finally.

"I'll stay," he said, "I wouldn't want to upset the balance any more than it already is."

Jellal put on a smile that felt all wrong and gripped his father's shoulder, bringing him around toward the door. "That's a good idea, but you know what they say about idle hands. I was thinking of putting you in charge of distribution while you're here."

Acnologia had long ago put away such an unimportant role and as Jellal suspected, developed a sour expression. "That's trivial work."

"It's not trivial, it's important to the _family_ business," Jellal said. "Erza's on picking up the slack and making sure everything runs smoothly at home, Laxus is fronting the projects, checking people out, looking for freams and the Heat, and I need you to make sure that when the time comes, everything's going to where it's supposed to be going and it's the quality that people pay for."

"I'm a resource that could offer you an edge and increase your profit margins but you put me in a position fit for an invalid. "

"I need someone I can trust doing it, _Padre_. I've had issues with people skimming off the top after the exchange is done and I'm too busy to be there myself."

Acnologia took his time considering Jellal's words. "Then I will do it until you have your people in order. As a thank you for bringing in your mother."

Of course. Anna was always the pawn Acnologia moved to manipulate Jellal. It was terrible because one day, Jellal was going to stop the game, become an unmovable pillar and Anna was going to be the one that got hurt. He stopped at the hallway leading down into the storeroom where he kept all of his best merchandise. "I have an order going out tonight. I'd appreciate it if you'd handle it. Gajeel can get you caught up on everything you need to know."

"Leave it to me, _mio figlio_." Acnologia moved out of his grip and entered the hallway, and Jellal thought that he navigated _Halo_ as though he'd _always_ been there. He _hated_ that. _Halo_ was his. It had been his _always_.

"Why do you frown, _piccola stella?"_ She appeared out of the hallway like a blonde wraith, moving gracefully in a cream-coloured skirt and a matching jacket, beneath which she wore a simple black shirt, cut high around her neck. The most Anna wore to show off her station was the ring of pink diamonds that looped her throat. And the matching engagement ring that sat behind her wedding band. Jellal remembered lying with his head on her lap, staring up into those diamonds and seeing himself reflected a hundred times. His mother smiled more in those days. When she said _piccola stella,_ she did it with a lightness she no longer carried. When she went to bed, she had no idea what her husband did. When she woke up, it wasn't in the middle of the night to pack her bags because things had gone horribly wrong.

Jellal had a smile for her; it was the one he practiced in the mirror, unorigional and cold at the edges if anyone looked too hard _._ On the surface, though, it was genuine. "I have an important business date." He made sure to take her by the shoulders and lay a kiss on her cheek. She smelled like citrus and cigarette smoke, as she always did, familiar, and he was for the first time glad that she was there.

Anna didn't let him pull away, gripping his forearms and keeping him exactly where he was. She leaned back and looked up at him and her eyes saw much too much for Jellal's liking. "Don't be like your father, Jellal. Don't let this consume you. There is more to this life than the money you make off suffering."

Was there? Jellal couldn't think of anything else. Money. Power. Glory. He was his father's son, though, which meant he was an _excellent_ liar. "My family is important to me, _Madre._ I'll never lose sight of that."

She touched his cheek and Jellal knew that she'd been lied to too many times before, in exactly that way. "Leave this behind before you can't."

Jellal searched her eyes. "What's this about?"

"I just want to see you happy," Anna said. "I don't want you to end up like me and your father, stripped by our greed."

"Luckily, I've learned from your examples." He abruptly changed the subject before she could get angry. "What are you doing this evening, _Madre?_ "

It took Anna some time to catch up but then she smiled and it seemed real enough. "I'm going to bring a book to the balcony and enjoy the weather while it's warm enough to enjoy."

"Summer's just starting."

"The things we love slip out of our grasp quickly." Like she slipped from his. Jellal watched her until she reached the stairs that would take her to the upper level.

"Stay on the property, _Madre_. My men will keep you safe."

"Your women, too, I hear," Anna called over her shoulder. There was a genuine smile on her mouth now. "I should like to meet this woman that's captured my son's eye the next time she comes by. Your father was vague."

"I'll let you know," Jellal responded. The stairway took Anna away and Jellal fixed the lapels of his suit. He ran his fingers through his hair one more time and checked his reflection in the glass protecting one of Meredy's paintings. He looked good. Better than good. He checked the gun beneath his arm. It was loaded and if he needed to shoot it, it would shoot true.

When Jellal thought he was ready, he finished his walk down the hall to the bar and threw the double doors open wide. As he came through, they started to close again, coaxed by hinges that made their slamming impossible. The other side was a complete contradiction of _Halo's_ upstairs. The floors here were burnt wood rather than gold, and so were the walls. Archways, impractical for anything other than style, lifted and met the ceilings by the corners, and the ceiling itself was like the pool's wall and the wall in his room, a mural of the sky. Starlight that was realer than his customers gave him credit for blazed down on Zeref's raven's wing hair. Together, he and Angel were light and dark. Angel smiled, Zeref glowered. Angel wore white, Zeref was in black.

Zeref stood from the bar when Jellal approached and helped Angel get to her feet as well. If not for him at her side, Jellal knew Angel would teeter over. She felt nothing in her left leg, the result of a bullet gone awry when she'd busted Zeref out of jail six months earlier. Jellal wondered if she resented him for that. Angel was a hard girl to read.

"Hi, Jellal, baby."

Jellal came for her and kissed her powdered cheek. "You look lovely, Angel." He stretched out his hand and Zeref looked at it for so long, Jellal thought he'd refuse to shake it. His grip was firm when he finally took it up.

The door for the washroom opened and Sting came out with a whistle on his lips. He grinned and it was cocky. He didn't say ' _Hey, Mister Fernandez,'_ or even a _'Hey, Clyde._ ' He sauntered up to the bar and tapped the counter. "Whisky if you've got it."

Jellal got the whisky, in the business of making business, not conflict, and poured everyone a glass. Zeref helped Angel settle again but remained standing. "Still working for Buchannan, Angel?" Jellal asked while he filled crystaline tumblers with his best stuff.

Angel smacked the gum she was chewing. "Richard doesn't like girls that can't dance."

"Is that so?"

Breezily, she said, "He doesn't think we fuck good, either. Scares the customers when your leg won't work."

"I hear he's been after Yukino to take your place."

The serenity on Angel's face evaporated. "And where did you hear _that_?"

"Meredy stopped by Buchannan's the other night to drop off his cut of her pay and saw Yukino leaving. Tears in her eyes." He said it just to bait her and wasn't disappointed; Angel's cheeks got pink. "When Meredy asked what was wrong, Yukino said Mister Buchannan hasn't left her alone since you were let go. He wants another girl with hair like yours."

Angel's white-painted nails dug into the dark bar. "He has?"

"Yukino's beautiful," Jellal said. "She's sweet, too." Too sweet and Angel knew that. Yukino would get chewed up as one of Buchannan's girls. He didn't always make sure they were safe or taken care of, a lot of that depended largely upon the girl. "I'm sure Richard saw that and thought he was getting a much better deal. You were always a little frisky for his business."

"I'll take care of it," Zeref said before Angel could spit the venom she was working toward.

"That's nice of you," Jellal said. "I already did, though. Yukino Aguria is off-limits to Richard Buchannan and he won't try to recruit her again."

"Is that how you plan on bringing me in? Creating these problems for me and then destroying them yourself and looking like the hero I can't live without?" Zeref asked shrewdly.

"I was just doing you a favour," Jellal replied.

"Like you were doing me a favour the other day when you brought Natsu to Bristol and kicked the fuck out of him?"

"Just like that, actually," Jellal said. "Last I heard, Natsu was in town but he hadn't come home because he's got that dame with him. He didn't know what you'd think of her."

Zeref knew the source of his leak without ever having to be told. He turned on Sting and Jellal felt sorry for the dragon slayer. "You and Juvia been bringing Meredy by again? Letting her come in and sell our secrets?"

Sting was sweating bullets before Zeref ever finished speaking. "I didn't let her wander around or anything—"

Shadows at the edges of the room bent toward Zeref like he had a gravity all of his own, a black hole. Jellal wasn't interested in seeing what happened if it collapsed. He didn't want to have to clean Sting off his bar and spoke before things could get out of hand. "Regardless of who sold out whom and _how,_ it's the truth. Little Natsu came home, Yukino's safe. By my count, that's two favours you owe me."

"Two favours I never _asked_ for." Zeref was furious. The last time he'd gotten like that, Gajeel reported that Flare Corona had wound up dead in his basement, shot through the head by shadow magic.

Jellal courted danger and was glad for the way his heart beat hard in his chest, eager for the chase. "Those are the best kinds. Those are the kinds that friends give."

"Business is what's important to you, not friendship," Zeref said. "Don't pretend."

"I'm going to lay this out flat," Jellal said soberly. "Very shortly, whoever has been targeting Magnolia's families are going to make a move that's bigger than cutting people's heads off in alleys and when they do, you're going to get flattened. You know how I know that? Because this is a _bold_ move and the only people that would make it are those that feel like they're going to float to the top when the shit starts raining down. There _really_ isn't such a thing as overconfidence. You're thin, Zeref. Your people are dropping like flies and you're vulnerable."

Zeref sucked on his tooth and seemed to compose himself; the shadows stopped doing weird things. "You're right. The Den's pretty scarce right now."

"We could help each other."

"We could." Zeref sipped his drink thoughtfully. "I've had another offer."

Jellal hadn't been prepared for that. "Another offer?"

"Yeah. And if you don't mind, I'd like to think about it before I say either way."

"Who's making offers to you?" Jellal asked and Zeref looked at him dryly.

"I'd rather not say. I want to make sure I do what's best for my family so give me time to think."

"I can appreciate that," Jellal said finally. "I need to know soon, though, otherwise I'll have to start looking elsewhere."

"No, you won't," Zeref replied and Jellal's mouth pulled involuntarily to the left. Zeref was as perceptive as he had ever seen him and Jellal was still tripping along behind when this was supposed to be _his_ game. He should have had all the dirt on Zeref well before conducting this meeting. He blamed the mistake on his father's appearance.

"Nothing is set in stone."

Zeref stood and helped Angel up, too. She tucked a pair of crutches beneath her arms and leaned over the bar. Her lipstick was dry so it didn't leave any mark on Jellal's cheek when she planted her lips there. He felt it long after she took herself and Zeref out of the bar with Sting trailing behind, leading the way despite her recent disability. Jellal never thought she looked less for her bum leg; she carried herself well. Richard Buchanan was a fool for letting her go.

Jellal pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. When he breathed out, a cloud of grey blotted out the constellations on the ceiling. He picked up his phone. Buchannan answered on the fourth ring. Jellal said, "I'd like you to make up a room for Yukino."

"The last time we spoke, Jellal, you made it clear that she wasn't for hire," Richard said.

"And she's still not, but I don't want her wandering around the streets like a free girl, either," Jellal said. "Make her up a room, make sure she's comfortable, and make sure everyone on the street knows that she suddenly disappeared. Can you do that?" Richard had a vast network of girls and they could spread a rumor faster than any Jellal knew.

"Can you make a deposit to my account?"

"Consider it done."

"Then likewise."

Jellal hung up and took another deep gulp of his drink. It did nothing for his mood. He wanted the sky above him and thought he wouldn't be satisfied until that was a reality. He followed in Angel's steps and took the stairs to the upper balcony. The door was silent opening and on the other side, the air was cool and eased his frustrations the way nothing else could. It would have been perfect if he was alone.

He knew her by her violent hair. She leaned away from her partner and turned on Jellal, not nearly as ashamed as Anna was to be caught out there on the balcony in an illicit embrace. "Mister Fernandez."

"Miss Scarlet."

"Belserion, actually," Eileen said.

" _Halo's_ closed for the evening."

"I know."

Jellal looked to his mother. "Good book, _Madre_?"

Anna turned her gaze out over the city. Eileen snorted and moved. With her sashaying by, Anna felt brave enough to come unglued from the wall and follow in Eileen's steps. She wouldn't meet Jellal's eye.

* * *

Laxus knew two things without ever having being told. Erza was drunk—not just a little bit drunk, but the kind of drunk that won a girl a hangover and the 'never drinking again' mantra. And her friend kept looking his way, as she was now when she and Erza both smacked down their seventh Jäger shot down on the table and leaned back in her seat. Her cheeks were red like apples and there was fever in her eyes.

Laxus heard Erza slur something like, "I want to dance."

Mira laughed and replied, "The band just got off the stage for a break. We have to wait until they come back." Erza pouted and Mira said, "I'll go get us another drink. Stay here."

"Hurry," Erza chirped.

Mira didn't look quite as drunk as her friend but she certainly wasn't stable coming to the bar and sliding between a woman wearing furs and Laxus. She leaned back against the woman and addressed Laxus directly. "Are you following me?"

He grinned. "What if I said yes?"

"I'd wonder what I did to catch the eye of Mister Fernandez's right-hand man, Mister Dreyar."

"My reputation precedes me."

"As sordid as it is, how could it not? What do you want?"

"Not a damn thing. I'm just here for a good time, doll."

Mira surprise him by asking, "Does that good time include buying a girl a drink?"

Laxus felt his smile turn wicked. "I would have thought your brother would have told you all about me."

"Sure he has. You should know, though, he hasn't been my most trusted source. Erza pointed you out right away and she wasn't shy on the details."

That was intriguing. Erza knew just what kind of man he was and yet, here was her friend, flirting, if he was any guess. "Aren't you afraid?"

"Should I be?"

"I'm happiest when most people are afraid of me."

"Me, too," Mira said with a flash of her teeth.

Laxus' laugh was quiet. "Why are you here?"

"She's my friend," Mira said. "I'm curious about the men she's working with."

"I hate to keep a lady in the dark. What are you drinking, doll?"

"It's Mirajane, not doll," she responded. "And Erza and I are drinking Jäger."

Laxus nodded to their table. "I don't think Erza's drinking much right now."

Mira followed his gaze to where Erza had cornered the saxophone player and was wrestling the instrument from him. His band mates were laughing and Erza was, too. She got the instrument away and put it on the table. She forced him to take her hand and her hip and waved the band on. They climbed on stage and the bar, which had been steadily filling, cheered.

By the time Mira turned back around, Laxus had flagged down the bartender and got not only some shot glasses but the bottle, too.

Laxus picked up his glass. "What's your brother going to think about this?"

"This is my business, not Elfman's," Mira said and knocked their glasses together.


	7. Chapter 7

Mirajane had lived in Magnolia all her life. She was twenty-three and her parents died when she was sixteen. Sometimes, her little sister still accidentally called her mom. Mostly, it was when Lisanna was upset that the title slipped. Mira didn't tell her stories like she was saddened by them. She told every one with a catching giggle on her lips. The drunker she got, the more she giggled, the more she hung off his shoulder, the lower her dress slipped and the wider she spread her legs when she knocked her knees together impatiently. Laxus dared to put his hand on her thigh. Mira sobered some and said without an ounce of guile, "Don't touch me until I say."

That little caveat at the end had him hanging on her words and keeping his hand where it was, pushing her. Was she really so brazen or was she putting on a bit? Mira dug her nails into his wrist. Laxus rode it out, keeping his face clear of pain. "When are you going to say?"

"When you convince me it'll be worth it."

Laxus grinned so wide he felt the scar over his eye get tight. "I like you, Mirajane."

"I'm not sure the feeling is mutual." She turned back to the bartender. "Give me a martini, on his tab."

Laxus didn't complain. Rose's gave him free drinks on account of Jellal supplying them protection from just about everything. It was one of the first places Laxus had shaken down when he joined Jellal and it was one of the ones he was most proud of. He wished Jellal would send him to more bars to do the same—life could be good—but it was a delicate dance, stepping on toes without crushing them.

"Have you always been a criminal?" Mira asked. "Or is this a new venture?"

"Do you always start out your dates with the heavy questions?"

"It's not a date."

"Then I guess I don't have to answer." Laxus poured out the last of the Jäger and drank it all back in one go at the same time Mira's martini came. Mira sized him up over the rim of the glass.

"I bet you weren't always so gauche."

"Do people use that word in casual conversation?"

"They do when you're talking to me," she answered. "But don't change the subject. I can see it. Little Laxus Dreyar running around Delilah District in a pair of oxfords and a little pink suit. Did your parents give you rolls of cash to go to the candy store? You probably filled your pockets and walked out without paying, right?"

Her assessment was startlingly accurate. "It was the bakery, actually, and I filled my pockets with cookies. Gramps' housekeeper was pissed every time I had melted chocolate chips in my pocket."

Mira's giggles caught again. She leaned over the bar and propped her head on her hand. Her hair slid over her shoulder and pooled on the dark wood, the colour looked as pure as fresh snow. "My assessment stands. You were a wild child because everyone told you to be good."

"Something like that." Gramps had _wanted_ him to be better, had even set him up in an Ivy League school when the time came. Laxus decided all on his own that he'd rather run with drug lords and their kind; it was what he knew best. "You want to dance, doll?"

"I told you, it's—"

"Mirajane."

" _Do_ you dance?"

"Not real well, I just wanted you to distract Erza before she beats up the saxophone player and we have a Situation."

Mira followed his gaze and saw that Erza was looking a little irate with the man that wanted to rejoin his band. "I'll get her."

Laxus leaned back and watched Mira sashay onto the crowding dance floor. As soon as Erza realized that Mira was there, she let the saxophone player go and forced Mira to take his place. Erza wasn't much of a dancer it seemed, her steps were off-key, but she had heart. Mira was much more graceful.

Watching them shamelessly, Laxus popped a weed in his mouth. A lighter appeared before he could get his out. He sucked on the end of the cigarette until the cherry was glowing before looking sideways at a man so fat, he pushed the buttons of his suit to the very limit.

"What's the occasion, Kane?"

"Boss asked that I remind you of your meeting." The way Kane spoke was slow. He wasn't the brightest bulb in the pack, that was no secret. He didn't need to be either, though. Single-minded worked in his favour. Kane took exception to nearly everyone he met and his favourite thing to do was get physical about it.

"I never agreed to a meeting."

Kane's lips twitched; his eye, too. "You're not going to go?"

"I'm thinking on it."

"I'm supposed to call him now, tell him yes or no."

"I said I'm thinking on it."

"Laxus—"

"Mister Dreyar, actually."

Kane pursed lips as fat as overfed caterpillars but to Laxus' surprise, granted him that concession. "Mister Dreyar—"

Laxus cut him off again. "You want to go for a walk?"

"I want to call Mister Gaebolg and tell him yes or no. Are you meeting him—"

Laxus wrapped his arm around Kane's shoulders and stood. "Come on, let's get some fresh air."

To Laxus' surprise, Kane didn't object. Laxus walked past Mira and felt her watchful eye between his shoulders. Erza's, too. A few people in the bar gave him the same treatment and that was good, he wanted plenty of witnesses.

The back door of Rose's led out into a patioed alley that was illuminated by two lights on the side of the building. Under the yellow glow was a man wearing a suit, a cigarette in his mouth while he spoke to his similarly dressed friend. More audience. Lovely.

Laxus waited to hear the door close and then turned on Kane. His knuckles were still tender from the last time he did this kind of work and they felt worse still when he put them to use again. Kane had a hard head and took a punch like an old pro. He rocked back on his heels, hit the wall and bounced back swinging. Laxus ducked beneath the ham-sized fist and hit Kane hard in the middle. Kane lost his last shot of whatever he'd been drinking, his cigarettes and his lighter. Laxus showed no mercy; he'd once seen Kane get up after the beating of a lifetime and crush someone's neck single-handedly.

His next hit brought Kane to his knees and from there, it was easy work. Laxus kicked him mercilessly, putting him on the ground and then continuing past what was likely necessary. Kane never stopped moving, but he did curl in on himself, useless. Laxus stopped because he heard Rose's door slam closed. He had his gun drawn and was looking over his shoulder for another target, thinking Precht had sent other men, but they were alone, the men that had been there mysteriously gone. Laxus panted, bringing in breath after breath. The air was soaked with blood and his forehead in sweat.

"Are you awake?" Kane didn't answer. Laxus dug his foot into Kane's gut and the man groaned. "Good. Listen. Tell Precht I'm not interested. Don't chase me around, don't hunt me down. If you do…" He waved his gun. "Our night will end differently. Kapiche?"

Kane didn't answer but Laxus suspected he got the message. He hit the washroom first upon re-entering the bar and washed his hands clean. Blood ran down the sides of the narrow sink; his knuckles were split again and blue with bruises. Laxus daubed them dry and was careful not to clench his fists too tight lest he open the cuts again. He smoothed his hair back in the wall-mounted mirror, ducking to see properly, and straightened his suit. When he was presentable once more, he exited the bar and immediately found Erza and Mira sitting together at a table. Erza's eyes were closed and her hands were clasped in her lap; her face was tilted toward the ceiling and there was a serene smile on her mouth. She was still in a happy spot but she was coming down and she was coming down hard. Mira still looked like she was in the thick of a pleasant drunk.

Laxus pulled out the wrought iron chair beside Mira and lowered himself down. Erza's eyes came open and the look on her face wasn't completely sour, though her words were. "The fuck are you doing here?"

"You have such a beautiful vocabulary, has anyone ever told you that?" Laxus asked.

"I have lots of beautiful things. That doesn't answer my question."

Laxus opened his mouth to answer and Mira spoke over him. "Are you heading to the east side of town? I think we could use a ride home."

"Sure." He actually couldn't have asked for a more favourable outcome.

"I don't want to go home yet," Erza said.

"You do, trust me," Mira said around a smile. "You need to sleep; I need to sleep. You have a big night tomorrow, right?"

Erza's eyes got so wide it was almost comical. Her hands came over her mouth. "I start work tomorrow."

"Yep." Mira stood and hauled Erza up with her. She'd done this plenty of times if Laxus was any judge. Plenty enough that she killed half of a bottle of Jäger and she was drunk, yes, but she wasn't falling down. At least, not yet. Maybe after the last few shots caught up to her. Her arm looped through Erza's and then through Laxus. His gun dug into his hip with her leaning into his side; it dug into hers, too, and though she looked at him sideways, she never drew away. He supposed guns weren't _new_ to her, not with her brother being a constable.

As they exited, Laxus felt eyes on him. What would people say tonight? He came to Rose's, messed up one of Precht's men, and took two beautiful dames home? He wished that's how his night was going to end.

The parking lot was near full. Erza squinted through a sea of cars and picked out the Studebaker. She walked to it with a confidence that was misleading; her heel twisted in a pothole and Mira detached herself from Laxus so she could pluck her up with some effort. They both laughed and tottered to the hood of the car. Erza propped her hip against it and looked like she _needed_ to. Laxus eyed her as he got out his keys, wondering if he should call her a cab instead. He didn't want to spend the next morning cleaning her drinks off the dash.

Then he thought about the hard time Jellal would give him if he _knew_ that he had Erza here and let her go with just _anyone_. And he would know. One way or another. It seemed like he had eyes everywhere.

"Alright, Scarlet?"

" _Fine_. I still don't know why you're here."

"He's going to take us home," Mira said. "He has a car."

"We could have a car."

"No, we couldn't."

"We'll take Gray's truck."

"He's not _here,_ " Mira said. Laxus worked on getting the door open while she fielded Erza's questions. The keys get tugged out of his hand and then giggling ensued. He didn't even have to ask which of them took it.

"Give them back."

"Nope." Erza pushed him aside. "We'll take it from here. I'll tell someone who likes you to pick you up. Later."

"Thought you're a copper, Scarlet?"

" _Was_ ," she corrected.

"Did they fire you because you forgot the laws?"

She snorted. "I'm not drunk enough to think getting in a car with you is a good idea, therefore, I'm not drunk enough to drive myself home."

He looked at her. She didn't catch her own mistake. He waved. "Get in the car."

"That's what I've been _saying."_ Erza pulled herself away from the hood and oozed, boneless, into the driver's seat. Mira twitched by on her heels. "She doesn't drink much," she said by explanation before dropping in beside Erza. They laughed and Mira pushed Erza over all the way on the bench seat. Erza was snugged against the window when Laxus got in and Mira was sliding the key into the ignition. She was close enough that he could feel the body heat coming through the icy blue dress she wore.

"Drive, My Man Jeeves. Do you know where you're going?"

"I wouldn't be real good at my job if I didn't know where Constable Strauss lived."

Mira's eyes got hard for the first time that night. "Someone really stupid would bother us there."

"I'm not looking for trouble." Not tonight, not with Elfman Strauss. Laxus waited for a comment from the peanut gallery but all he got on Erza's end was a snorting snore.

Mira settled back, seemingly satisfied. "Hurry up then."

Laxus brought the car to life and pulled it out of the lot, going left.

"Erza's house is the other way."

"Yours is closer. I'm not coming back this way."

"So I'm supposed to leave her in here with you, passed out?"

"Don't you trust me?"

"Not even an inch," she said.

"Good," Laxus replied. "But I'm not going to do anything to the boss's girl."

"You know she's not, right? His, I mean. She has a boyfriend."

Laxus didn't want to argue logistics with her. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Committed?"

She waggled her ring finger in his direction; it was empty. "Just me and my scary brother."

Elfman Strauss was an inconvenience at best. "You want to get a bite tomorrow?"

Her brow lifted. "With you?"

"I don't see anyone else in here."

"There's Erza."

"Anyone conscious."

"No," she said after a moment. "And no, I would not like to."

He took his eyes off the road so he could look at her. "Then what's all this about? The flirting, the drive home?"

"Told you, I just wanted to know what kind of men Erza was working with, and now I know."

"You think you got me all figured out."

"I had you figured out the moment I laid eyes on you." Mira gathered her platinum hair over her shoulder. "You're a criminal. Plain cut. _Basic._ "

Basic. Ouch. "What's that saying? Don't judge a sheep by its fur or something?"

"Sheep have _wool,_ not fur. And it's, _don't trust a wolf in sheep's clothes_."

"I'm not sure that's right, either."

"Neither am I."

"Whatever it is," Laxus said. "You're here. I'm not a hiding wolf, you don't got a date tomorrow, so why not?"

"Because I say so."

"Come on, Mirajane. Don't clank me."

"I watched you beat a man unconscious tonight," she said idly.

"Saw that, huh?"

"I was curious."

"But not scared."

"What makes you think that?"

"Because you then asked me to drive you home."

She plucked at the hem of her dress and didn't respond.

"Are you kooky or something?"

Her look could strip paint.

"Kooky it is." Laxus turned the car around the corner and the Strauss's bungalow came into view. There were a couple of lights on inside. Laxus could see Elfman moving behind the kitchen window. He was shoveling something into his face. Guys like him never stopped eating.

"Road's fine," Mira said. "Like, here."

Two houses away still. "Ashamed?"

"Scared for you."

"You're kooky _and_ sweet."

"I'm not."

"Which?"

"Either."

"Looks that way to me."

She pointed toward herself. "Wolf."

"And that dress is your sheep's clothes?"

She smiled toothily. "Sure."

"I'd love to get you out of them."

"And I'd love for you to drop dead."

"I think you should give me a go first before you decide something like that." Laxus put the car in park and Mira laughed.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. It's an important decision. You should have all the facts."

"Hm." She bit her lip, considering. Laxus thought she was playing him again but she took him by the shoulder and pulled him down for a kiss that was all but dripping Jäger. She was gone well before Laxus could figure out what the hell happened, sliding into his lap and then out the door in a motion that was smooth.

Mira slammed his door and leaned into the window. "Thanks for the ride."

Laxus' "Anytime," came out kind of hoarse. He tried again. "Dinner?"

Mira grinned wickedly. "No." She nodded to Erza. "Don't try anything strange with her. I'll hurt you." And then she was gone _._

Laxus waited until she was on her porch and then he put his car back into drive. He listened to music just this side of loud to distract himself. Erza didn't seem to mind. She waited until they pulled into her driveway to do anything other than snore loudly, and even then, her eyes didn't come open. Laxus reached over her and threw open the door. Erza slowly, slowly blinked.

"You're home, doll."

"I am?"

"Looks that way to me. You want me to bring you in?"

"No," she said immediately, more aware as the seconds ticked by.

"Afraid I'll get fresh? In another life, Scarlet. Boss'll skin me."

"Do you like working for him?" she asked suddenly and there wasn't an ounce of wiliness in her voice.

"It's not a bad gig," Laxus admitted.

"I'm going to swim in the pool," Erza decided dreamily. " _Halo's_. Tomorrow. Have you?"

"It's not bad," he said again.

She clumsily got both of her legs out. "I still think you're a nosebleed but thanks for driving me home."

She and Mira were a pair. "And I think you're a punk, but thanks for drooling down my window."

"D.D.T."

"What, and look like you?"

Erza employed her favourite finger again and slammed the door without replying. He watched her sway drunkenly toward the house and only took his eyes off of her when the front door opened and closed. Out of the treeline to his left stepped a figure with hair almost as red as Erza's. She didn't look as sleepy as Erza had and she looked twice as mean. Laxus unrolled his window. "Evening, Missus Scarlet, you're just the dame I was hoping to see."

"Belserion," she corrected.

"Sorry. Belserion. Laxus Dreyar."

"I know who you are."

Why did it feel like he was getting shut down so much tonight? "Right. 'Course. I'm a celebrity."

Erza had inherited her ability to cut men down from this very source. Eileen leaned against the window frame and she smelled like wild roses, her breath like mint. "You're _infamous_ in my circles. Not for the reasons you think, though. Women don't gossip about how many men you've killed or bloodied. They don't titter, afraid, like you men think we do."

"Tell me, then, what do they do?"

Eileen grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. "They whisper. They say you have a mouth on you. They say you like to make a show. Mostly, though? They say when you're finally serious about it, you're too fast and not rough enough."

A thrill moved through Laxus' body, starting at his chest and ending at his dick. He supposed her being a bitch shouldn't turn him on but it did. "Yeah?"

"Lots of men are hit with this affliction. They think we're more delicate than what we actually are." She stood straight and backed up. "You can come inside. Shower before I see you and I'll show you how to treat us."

Laxus tempered himself. "This isn't that kind of visit. Not today. I have business tonight with an old colleague. I need you to fix me up."

Eileen started to retreat. "This is the only service I offer and if you don't buy, I can't help you, sorry. Goodnight."

Laxus grabbed her wrist to keep her from going far and pulled a huge wad of cash from his pocket with his free hand. He thrust it into her palm. "I probably don't need it, but I don't want to show up outgunned so make it good, doll."

She wrenched from his hold but kept the money and flipped through it, counting quickly. One dark and thin brow rose. "An old colleague but not an old friend."

"You got it, baby."

The money went into the purse she had clutched in her hand and she came around the passenger's side of the car, filling the spot Erza had vacated. Laxus had never had augmentations done like this and for the first time in recent memory, he was nervous. "Be gentle, alright?"

Eileen put her hands on him and he could feel her magic. It was gross and it was _engrossing_. "No, Mister Dreyar."

* * *

Potholes puckered the road leading to the tracks. Laxus avoided them where he could; it wasn't always possible, though, because while his headlights cut through the darkness, they did nothing for the fog. He could see the ditches on either side of the road, choked with cattails and chicory and rattlesnake grass, and he could see the road sign for the train tracks when he got within twenty feet of it, but other than that? He didn't know Precht was waiting for him until he stopped the Studebaker in front of the tracks and got out. Smells hit him, great mullen, sweet clover, oil and gasoline, cigarette smoke. It was too much. And his ears. They roared with sound. The Thunderbird's engine, crickets whistling in the ditches, an owl that barreled down on a mouse. It was ludicrous that he could hear so much. It wasn't helpful. He'd paid too much for something that was going to get him killed.

He heard the sound of a gun's hammer flicking down and even pinpointed it. It was easier to drown out other sounds with something to focus on. Whoever was spying on him, the breeze ruffled their hair and their feet dug into gravel and railway ties. They were on the tracks, waiting for him to fuck up, and Laxus wasn't happy about it. He let the magic Miss Belserion had spelled him with come out of his hands. Lightning sparked across the ground bright and white and hot. It lit up the man and felled him fast with a short, choked gurgle. Laxus heard another hammer snap down and let the magic leave him again, finding its own path.

The other man fell just as easily as the first. He could hear them both still breathing, though the smell of charred meat was on the air. His heart hammered. Walking helped dissipate some of his nervous energy.

The Thunderbird came out of a blanket of fog, headlights and the glowing cherry of a cigar. The smell came to Laxus' newly sensitive nose and burned all the way down. He hoped the discomfort faded when the magic did; he liked smoking.

"It's rude to attack my men unprovoked," said the driver.

"It's rude to ask me here and then set armed men up in the shadows," Laxus said.

"A precaution. Are they dead?"

"No."

"Then am I to assume that our friendship still stands?"

"I'm not sure you could ever call us friends." Laxus closed the final distance between he and the car. The shadows parted and gave up their prize. Precht was alone in the driver's seat, listening to Marilyn Monroe sing lowly.

"Acquaintances, then."

"Sure."

"Join me."

Laxus got in the passenger's side. Leather and cologne filled his nose and the overhead light made the interior ignite. He closed the door and the car rocked slightly.

Precht's eyes had been closed; he still didn't bother opening them. "It's nice to see you, Laxus. Or is it Mister Dreyar these days?"

"I see Kane made it back to Grimoire."

"He did, and told me that you didn't want to meet. You're still here, though. Funny, that."

"Kane knew better than to approach me in public," Laxus said. "You do, too."

"I was just eager to hear from you. I didn't want to make a spectacle but your actions have ensured that."

"Fernandez already knows something's up. If he heard that I was meeting with your boys and not doing a damn thing about it, I'd be skewered before breakfast."

"I see."

Precht was the same man today as he was the first day Laxus had met him, hard to read and hard to trust, though Laxus supposed some things were different. Back then, standing at his grandfather's knee while Makarov conducted his own business around a table filled with tumblers and smoking cigars, Laxus was afraid to meet Precht's gaze. It could have been his massive beard and the perpetual frown Precht wore, or it could have been the eye patch covering his bad eye. Laxus forever wondered what was hidden beneath and his imagination had always been a wicked thing.

He supposed that it could have also been Precht's moniker, _Hades,_ that struck fear in his young heart. He had _earned_ that name. Seven years old was young to watch Precht methodically slice the toes off a thief but that's what Laxus did until his grandfather caught him spying and put an end to it. Years had passed and worse things had filled his mind since then, but Laxus still remembered the appendages littering the concrete, and the blood. He remembered the way it smelled and the way the boy screamed and the way Precht's face was pinched in the most manic expression Laxus had seen. He remembered his grandfather's claw-like grip on his wrist when he realized that Laxus was there.

Since then, Precht had not only gotten older and trimmed his beard, he'd outfitted himself with a glass eye. Was he _less_ scary now? Not entirely, there was still that childhood awe and respect, but Laxus knew that Precht wasn't the worst thing Magnolia could offer. "So, what am I doing out here in the middle of the night?"

"I want to make you an offer, Laxus, you and your grandfather. Leave Fernandez's side and come work for Grimoire."

Laxus lit a cigarette and emptied his lungs, buying time to think. "Why would I do that?"

"Because there is a war coming to Magnolia, boy, and I have it on good authority that if you remain where you are, you're going to be on the losing side."

Laxus wanted to pump him for information but kept his cool. "Is that so?"

Precht said, "Jellal Fernandez isn't going to control this city for much longer, of that I'm certain. Come to Grimoire and I'll double what you're making."

"I don't know if anyone's told you, Gaebolg, but having a Dreyar back you don't mean shit anymore. We lost everything, it all went into Jellal's operation when he annexed us. If you're looking for money or power—"

"I'm looking to topple a king. To do that, I need to take out his pawns," Precht said like he was quoting a mantra.

Laxus let a web of silence weave between them.

"Think on your answer, Laxus. And think carefully."

Laxus pushed open the car door and exited without offering a response. Precht didn't call him back and no fingers tightened on triggers down the line of tracks.

Laxus drove back to _Halo_ with the radio off and his mind churning. Power. People were too hungry lately, as far as he was concerned, and it seemed like every time he turned around, someone had an agenda out and was scrawling his name in the margins. He wondered idly if it was Precht ordering heads to roll. It was a bold move and not above his abilities. Would he do it without more solid footing, though?

Laxus was disappointed when he pulled into the parking lot and Jellal was sitting outside on the steps, smoking a cigarette in his socks. Laxus parked near the front and slammed the car's door.

Jellal looked up at him through a fringe of hair. "How was she?"

"Not meeting with anyone I didn't think she should be," Laxus said.

"And?"

Laxus knew what he wanted and threw him a bone. "She doesn't drink regularly. She was a wreck."

Jellal's mouth twitched in the way it _always_ did when he was thinking about Erza. "Tomorrow morning is going to be hard for her."

"Likely." Laxus tried to move past him; Jellal remained where he was, blocking the entrance.

"I heard you had a visitor tonight."

"Kane," Laxus agreed.

"What did he want?"

"Precht Gaebolg wanted to meet."

Jellal's face lit up in the glow of his cigarette. "I see. Regarding?"

There wasn't any sense hiding. "He asked me to come work for him. Said the King was going to have his pawns pulled out from around him."

Jellal showed his first sign of irritation and tapped his foot. "First Zeref and now this…"

"Zeref?"

"He said he had another offer and needed some time to _think_ about it."

Laxus wasn't as surprised as he may have been before his train track meeting. "You think it's Precht making offers?"

"Seems like. Why is he fucking with me, though? He knows better than that."

"Apparently not."

Jellal sucked back his cigarette. "I can still trust you?"

"As much as you ever could."

Jellal breathed his smoke from his nose. "Then you should entertain him next time he comes calling. Figure out what he wants and _why_."

* * *

Sunrise came and went; noon hour, too, before Erza could simply get out of bed in the dress she'd worn last night. She was going to make coffee but she didn't think she could stomach it. Even the smell of it was bad, and the permeating stink of bacon grease. She took her heavy stomach and her watering mouth outside to the porch and sat there with a tall glass of water.

The world was in motion around her but she didn't care. As long as _this_ small slice of paradise didn't start doing weird things, she was _good._ The ground could stay _still_ , the breeze could remain _constant_ , and the bannister she leaned against, hard and cool and supporting. She'd be A+.

Why did anyone drink _ever_? Why did she let shame coax her into _that_ bad decision?

"Morning, Missy."

Erza only dared to crack open her eye and tilt her face up slightly. A man in a Post Man's uniform had come all the way up her driveway and had even blocked the sun from blazing down upon her, and she was just noticing _now_? He held out a stack of letters.

"These are for you."

Erza unfolded her arm and took the letters but eyed the man carefully. She was hungover and the disguise was good, but… "Chief?"

His mustached lip came out. "I was almost disappointed in you."

Erza dropped her voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Speak normally," he replied and then laughed in a way Erza knew was fake but sounded real enough to anyone listening from the fringe. He sobered and said, "You're being watched by Fernandez's men."

"Watched?" Erza repeated and did everything in her power _not_ to look around.

"They're across the street in that Lincoln Coupe."

Erza let her eyes focus behind the Chief's shoulder and sure enough, there was a black Coupe across the street, a man inside cramming his face with a sandwich. He looked her way occasionally but didn't stare.

"I told you this wasn't going to be easy. He's the suspicious type." Briggs started looking through his postage sack like he'd misplaced something. "How is it going?"

"I start work tonight in the poker room."

"Did you gut thing with Fullbuster?"

"I haven't had the opportunity," Erza fibbed. It was _hard._ Even if she told herself it was in the best interest of her job, even if she told herself that once it was over, they could fix things and go back to the way everything was _before_.

"You need to embrace this and make it good. Use every trick you got and understand that Jellal's not going to tell his deep-dark secrets to a dame he's got watching the poker room. Got it? He's going to start spilling to the dame he thinks he's in love with. You got something none of my other Constables have, Erza. _Use it_."

She was good for one thing all over again and it made Erza _furious_. "The last time my Chief asked me to use my body to dig up information on the Dragon's Den, it nearly cost me everything." She still remembered the way Gray looked at her when she told him that Chief Heartfilia wanted her to use her… assets to pump Gray for information regarding the Den's location and thus, the location of his kidnapped daughter.

"The last time your Chief asked you to use your body, the stakes weren't so high. You weren't an underground operative working out of the biggest syndicate in the city. You weren't drawing every breath out of Mister Fernandez's grace, were you?"

"He's not as cold as you make him sound," Erza said; not the man that puttered around his club in his socks, sleeves rolled up and hair a mess.

"Now there, we'll have to agree to disagree. But that's good you feel that way, Scarlet, you can use that to your advantage. Just be careful, alright?"

She hesitated and Chief Briggs looked at her completely. "Look at me."

She did.

"Can you do this or not?"

"Of course I can," Erza said.

"Can you do what you _need_ to do to get information from him?"

She huffed. _Goodbye, Dignity._ "Yes."

"Good. I want to see you in a week with updates. Figure out a way to contact me covertly."

"Yes, Sir."

She went inside and got her bathing suit together.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Edits. I'm so sorry. I _couldn't_ leave it. I couldn't. It'll be back up hopefully by the end of the week, it's glorious, continuitious self.

* * *

The house was filled with the scent of hairspray. Erza found her mother in the washroom in her favourite black satin housecoat, taking a curling iron to her hair.

Eileen's first words were, "I suppose I should thank you for making your way into the house last night." Erza mumbled an _mmhmm_ and Eileen said, "Though, I suppose Mister Dreyar would have brought you in."

Erza wrinkled her nose. "Or not."

"He was good enough to bring you home but not inside?" Eileen whittled. Erza wasn't mentally dexterous enough to figure out what her mother was trying to say.

"Yes?"

"Good answer. But you still need to be careful."

Erza made herself focus because she thought her mother was getting at something she was missing entirely. "Of?"

"Coming home like that, to begin with," Eileen said. "And letting Mister Dreyar drive you home like that. You don't know him."

"That was a special circumstance."

"There are no special circumstances. You need to be watching, always."

Erza knew that and said as much, arguing mostly because she was ashamed. Eileen gave her no quarter.

"I mean it. You haven't dealt with men like this, not intimately."

Erza was done with the games. "What are you trying to say?"

"You were once a constable and those men you're working with _are_ criminals with more than a few bones to pick with the police, I'd bet." She said the last with a straight face without an ounce of heavy worry bleeding into her voice; it didn't depict how she actually felt, Erza knew. Her mother was a statue but she wasn't unfeeling. Erza envied her ability to deadpan her life away. If she were similarly gifted, the day she walked out of the Constabulary red-eyed would have happened with much more composure.

"Understand?"

Erza didn't know if her mother was right or not but agreed just to end the conversation. "I'll be careful."

"Good." Eileen swiped scarlet lipstick over her lips. "Seeing as how I don't suppose you'll quit your job, that's all I'll ask." Erza pushed herself off the wall but didn't get very far. Her mother said, "Packages came for you while you were sleeping. Clothing, if I had to guess."

"Mister Fernandez sent me more suits," Erza explained.

Eileen got a wistful look in her eye and her mouth tilted up. "You're going to look smart in them."

Erza suppressed a sigh. Eileen was hot and cold; a handful to keep up with. "Thanks, momma."

Eileen put down her lipstick and lifted the curling iron between them, snapping it open and closed. "Want me to do your hair?"

Yes, and no. Erza agreed and thought of it as embracing her role. She would succeed in earning Jellal's trust if it was the last thing she ever did and if it started by charming him… so be it. She sat on the closed toilet seat and Eileen got to work.

* * *

Cotton-brain was an affliction Gray hadn't been plagued with since his college days and he didn't fucking miss it. He wandered down the creaking stairs of his old farmhouse with his eyes mostly closed, that helped the headache that was pulsing between his temples, and stumbled into the kitchen. It took him a full ten seconds to recognize that there was someone standing at the kitchen sink. And that the smell of coffee was in the air.

Gray opened his eyes wider and focused. "What the fuck?" He didn't mean to speak so harshly and would have been more ashamed if it was anyone else, but he thought maybe Ultear Milkovich, who stood in one of Gray's own shirts, a black button down he only ever pulled out for _Occasions_ , was good for a few words that were off the scale.

Ultear looked over her shoulder and sunlight spilled through hair as black as a coal. "Morning. I put coffee on but I couldn't find the sugar."

"Sugar?" Gray asked dumbly.

"If you tried it, you'd know it needed it."

He squinted. "Why are you here?"

Lips that had been stained red last night popped out. Somehow, despite the time she'd spent keeping up with the boys, Ultear looked ready for the day. Gray wondered what he looked like. Dishevelled. In his underwear. "Fuck," he swore again and left her just where she was without getting a proper answer from her. The laundry room was just off the kitchen and it was where he found not only an orange and brown plaid shirt but a pair of dark jeans he practically fell into. When he came back out, Ultear was at the table with her very long and very nude legs crossed, a cup of coffee in her hand, the mug reading _Billy's Finest Honey, EST. 1947_ with a picture of a grinning bee. Gray glowered at it and at Ultear and at her legs and the edge of black panties he could see. "Fuck," he swore again.

Ultear _hmmed._ "You didn't need to get dressed for me. I liked you just as you were."

Gray's ears roared. "I liked you when you weren't in my house."

"That's not what you said last night." She winked.

"No," Gray denied.

"Yep."

Gray had no defense. "Get out."

"Keep your voice down, you'll wake poor Freed," Ultear primed.

"Freed?"

She sipped her coffee and closed her eyes in mock enjoyment. Only after she'd allowed them to flutter open again did she say, "Yes, Freed. Gee, don't you remember anything?"

 _Think. Think. Think._ All he had was laughter, curtains of dark hair, cigarette smoke on his tongue and he _didn't smoke._ His mouth sure tasted like an ashtray. Gray pressed in on his temples. This was like one long and cruel bad dream.

Ultear said, "Let me remind you. Elfman, who, by the way, is a total stick in the mud, cut out early with Jura. The party was going to break up then but you lured us all back here with the promise of a tractor ride all around that fallow field out back. Halfway through, though, you put the tractor in the pond because there was no light, and that was the end of that."

Gray looked out the window despite his disbelief and saw the back wheels of the tractor sticking up in the air, gleaming in the sunlight; the front was thoroughly sunk. " _Fuck_." That was his dad's tractor. If he were still alive… Gray wouldn't be.

Ultear had no sympathy. "Good luck getting it out. You guys tried for oh… about twenty minutes. Freed threw up in the pond. No one wanted to go in after that. Shortly after, Macao passed out in the old hayloft, and Meredy walked home."

"Meredy?"

"We saw her in the bar and you tried to get belligerent with her over those drawings. She told you to fuck off. I loved her _immediately_ and asked her to have a few drinks with us."

If Gray tried really, really hard, he remembered soft rose and black together. More laughter and whirling lights. This time, he kept his cursing silent.

"Anyway, I offered to stay to help take care of Freed because no one wanted to put him in their car and drive him home and you certainly weren't in any state to go anywhere or do anything."

"You stayed to take care of Freed." Gray couldn't see Ultear as a caregiver but in that moment, he didn't _care._ He felt relief and rode it all the way up until Ultear popped the air balloon holding him aloft.

"Sure, that's what we told everyone," Ultear swooned and Gray's stomach roiled. She read him clearly and her laugh was low and dark. "I'm kidding. Honestly," she said when Gray didn't crack a smile. "Really, I was just yanking your chain."

"You think that's funny?"

She cackled. "Yes. Hell. It looked like you were going to blow a gasket. No worries, baby, I slept in the spare room all on my lonesome."

Gray let his shoulders drop and he scrubbed his face and swore again.

Ultear showed him her teeth. "Guilty conscience, Fullbuster? Thinking things about me I should know about? You should tell me; we can compare notes." She looked him over up and down. There was no misconstruing that.

The telephone rang, saving Gray from having to reply. When he answered, it was Briggs on the other end of the line. "Chief."

The Chief skipped hello and got straight to the point. "Can you come in today?"

"It's my day off," Gray said automatically.

"I know what day it is, Fullbuster. Yes, or no?"

Gray thought about his heavy stomach and the migraine plaguing him and then he caught sight of barefooted Ultear out of the corner of his eye, padding to and then leaning over the sink and washing her cup. His shirt rode up on her thighs and he saw her satin underwear again. Beneath his collar was hot and his migraine pulsed more furiously. He blurted, "I'll be there in thirty."

The Chief was saying something when he hung up. The phone never rang again, so Gray had to assume that it wasn't all that important. "I got to get to work."

"Now?" Ultear asked. She turned and leaned back against the counter and Gray wondered if the underwear was the _only_ thing she had on beneath his shirt. The material pulled tight. Yes. Definitely yes.

Gray spat, "Something's come up." _What,_ he didn't know, but why else would the Chief be calling him in? "Just… show yourself out." Hell, that felt uncomfortable saying. He hadn't even told Erza to show herself out. "Fuck," he muttered again. Louder, Gray said, "Take Freed with you. And Macao if he's still in the barn."

"Are you okay to drive to work? Do you want me to take you?"

"No. No, I do not," Gray said firmly and took himself back to the laundry room. The only uniform he had worth wearing was wrinkled and had a ketchup stain on the breast. He was going to do laundry that day but… He took a damp cloth and scrubbed it mostly clean and dressed. On his way through the kitchen, Ultear was back at the table and her legs were crossed once more.

"Have a good day, sweetie," she said meanly.

"Get out of my house, Ultear," Gray replied and grabbed his Bullwinkle keychain off the hook by the front door. He didn't bother putting his boots on there inside the house, he grabbed them up and took them out over the porch, the gravel driveway, the wet grass, and put them on in his truck. Who cared that his socks were wet? He didn't have to look at Ultear anymore or think about how little he remembered last night.

* * *

After Angel and Zeref cracked a hole in the side of the Constabulary with one of Angel's summons and the police had shot up the pavement and several dozen cars, the whole east side of the Constabulary had been redone. It looked poorly blended to Gray, who remembered what the building was before and after the remodeling, but an outsider would have a more difficult time finding the spots where old and new brick were married. Inside was even worse. The old part of the building was kind of a dingy off-white while the new part where the jail cells were to the left and through a door behind the front desk, was so bright, it was hard to focus when all the overhead fluorescent lights were on.

The front desk was the same, however. Sturdy, the centerpiece of the Constabulary and always the easiest to look at. Didn't matter if it was Heartfilia or Briggs, they only ever hired ladies with the nicest smiles. Levy's was sweet while Mira's was sultry and Erza's… cutting and searing. That was a long time ago now. Gray selfishly missed the days that she worked front desk and would sneak behind everyone's back and do policing work. If she was caught she'd reprimanded but at least she wasn't _fired._

Levy looked up and half-smiled at Gray. It was forced, though. "Chief wants to see you in his office," she said in lieu of hello.

All good experiences started out that way, Gray tried to convince himself. Maybe he was getting a raise, or a promotion or maybe, the Chief was going to tell him that they were replacing the Puke Tudor and he'd no longer have to drive it on patrols. Gray crossed his fingers for the last. "Thanks," he told her and went left.

The office belonging to Chief Briggs was the largest in the building, next to the Medical Examiners, and Gray supposed that it was supposed to be warm and welcoming. Save for the painting of the girl in her canoe, it seemed devoid of life. Even Briggs, who sat at his desk leaning back in his chair, looked sapped for liveliness.

"Shut the door, Fullbuster."

Gray followed his instructions and sat in the chair opposite the desk.

"There's ketchup on your uniform."

Gray couldn't help his neck getting hot. "Yes, Sir."

"It looks sloppy."

"I was going to do laundry today, Sir."

"You look like shit, too. Is that whisky on your breath?"

Gray reminded him, "Today was supposed to be my day off."

"But here you are."

"Here I am." Gray waited patiently for Briggs to explain himself. The Chief took his time taking out a package of cigarettes and lighting one. He handed one to Gray who _really_ never smoked but took one anyway because he needed something to do with his hands and he didn't want to insult his boss. The first inhale made him want to simultaneously cough and puke. He swallowed it back until the feeling passed. The second time he breathed in, things were easier.

Chief Briggs tapped his cigarette in a huge blue glass ashtray and let out a grey line of smoke. "Our killer's struck again. Early this morning. We found the body but not the head."

"Where?" Gray asked.

"Dockside. Your beat."

Gray sighed and smoke burned his nose. "And you want me to investigate it?"

"It's about time you get back into the game. Desk duty is wasting your talents," he replied.

Gray forgot his want to please and felt brave with the praise. "You're the one that put me there. If you had just let me and Erza—"

"Scarlet's gone and if you say her name again, you will be, too."

It felt like betraying Erza again letting it go _. You didn't betray her before_. It felt like it, though, when Ultear stayed over. He wondered just _whatthehell_ he'd been thinking when he said yes.

"You're getting a new partner."

"I am?" After years of soloing and then his short stint as Erza's partner, he just thought he'd go back to the way things were.

"Bacchus Groh."

"Groh? He's a drunk."

"You're the one with whisky on your breath," Briggs said mercilessly.

Gray tried another avenue. "No one wants to work with him."

"Sorry to say, no one wants to work with you, either," Briggs replied. "You're a pariah after your last partner."

Gray bit his tongue and kept his opinion on that matter to himself.

"Take your Tudor and hit Fifth and Fifth, that's where the body ended up."

"Yes, Sir." Gray took his dismissal when it was handed to him and exited the office. Levy looked at him curiously over the edge of a black duo-tang. He asked her for his keys as he passed the desk and she grabbed them off the wall to her left. Someone thoughtful had found another Bullwinkle keychain and attached it to the Tudor's key. Gray looked at it with disdain.

"I didn't see where it came from," Levy answered his unasked question. Gray smiled tightly and got a step in before Levy asked, "What did he say?"

"To mind your own," Gray said first and then immediately apologized. He didn't elaborate, though, and Levy looked doubly struck. He left her wondering and went on the search for Bacchus. His first stop was the bullpen. When he wasn't there, Gray tried the lunch room. Elfman directed him toward the overflow records storage in the attic. Up a set of pulldown stairs that were still out, past more than a few spider webs, into the hot ceiling and that's where Gray found his quarry, leaning over a confused looking Laki, one hand on her hip and the other on the skeleton wall over her head, the grin on his mouth illuminated by the single bulb swinging over their heads; back and forth, back and forth, it brought to light a pile of disorganized boxes half-torn apart, the papers scattered throughout the room.

"So what do you say? Make a gent some dinner tonight?" Bacchus was saying in a voice that was as slimy as a slug.

Laki squirmed and tripped on her answer. She ended up spitting out, "Gray!" instead of anything comprehensible.

"Gray?" Bacchus repeated. "Dunno what that is but—"

"Your new partner," Gray cut in.

Bacchus turned and gave Gray a once-over. "I think you're lost, Clyde."

Gray ignored him. "Chief wants us to check out the murder at Fifth and Fifth. Get what you need and let's hit the road."

"You talking to me?"

"Thanks for joining the conversation," Gray said sarcastically. "Hurry up because it's my day off and I want to make this as quick and painless as possible."

Bacchus' expression turned tart. "Me and you?"

"You got it; let's agitate the gravel." Gray started down the stairs so there could be no question. He heard Bacchus descending after him and thought maybe things wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

His grandfather's room was empty save for the man himself, which was a bit of a change; recently, Laxus had to pry people out; the old man was getting too social in Laxus' opinion. Makarov was sitting up today and there was a wrinkled cigarette in his hand. Though he was still dressed in his blue satin pajamas, there was a whisky on the bedside table.

"Isn't it early for that, old man? When did you get up?"

Makarov looked over his shoulder and grunted. "I'm an adult."

"You're a senior, which is basically like being a child. Sometimes, I even have to wipe your ass."

"I'm preparing you for children," Makarov said with superiority and Laxus turned up his nose. "And if somehow, you find a woman good enough to do the caring on her own, I'm preparing you for the grandson I'm cursing you with. May a shithead of your caliber be dropped in your lap."

Laxus clapped him on his back and didn't like how many bones he could feel beneath his hand. "I kept things interesting for you."

Makarov grunted. "Speaking of interesting, that butcher nurse you got for me came by today."

"Yeah? What'd she tell you?"

"Nothing new. _You're dying, Mister Makarov, you shouldn't be drinking and smoking like you aren't._ You know what I say? I'm dying with or without it, so let an old man have his pleasures!"

Laxus snorted and picked up a piece of paper from the nightstand. On it was a prescription for powerful pain medication. "Your guts bothering you again?"

Makarov waved him off. "They always do these days so what's the difference?"

"I'll go fill this up for you," Laxus said.

"Before you do." Makarov looked over his shoulder, doing a sweep of the room then said quietly, "Acnologia came here last night."

Laxus sucked on his tooth, half dreading what his grandfather was getting at. "Yeah?"

"He said you had a run in with one of Precht's boys."

He wasn't sure what he thought his grandfather was going to say—that he'd been threatened or _something,_ but no. Just gossip. It seemed _everyone_ was talking about his run in last night.

"Did you tune him up?"

Laxus flexed his knuckles and felt the lingering bruises. Today when he awoke, his hands were blue almost to the wrist. "I didn't like what he was selling."

"But you listened to it?"

"I heard enough."

"But did you hear right?"

"I heard the only way a man can hear," Laxus said tartly, quietly. "Now lay off of it."

Makarov shook his head. "Could be, you're making a mistake, boy."

"You still sleep with that gun under your pillow?"

"Of course."

"Good, because talking like that, you're going to need it," Laxus said.

"I'm no fool," Makarov said.

Laxus folded the prescription and said in a more natural voice, "Do you want me to send Daphne down?"

"Get her to bring her massage oils," Makarov said wistfully.

Laxus swiped the cigarettes off the opposite nightstand on the way by and knocked one out. The rest went into his pocket. He'd put them with all the other things he'd confiscated from his grandfather. "You got it, Pops."

* * *

Laxus spied her leaning over the drugstore's counter, twisting the toe of her white Mary Janes back and forth on the similarly white tiled floor, while she waited for the pharmacist to return. From the looks of it, she'd been waiting for some time already and busied herself with the latest magazines—beauty and fashion and celebrities. The drugstore was busy for a mid-afternoon, allowing Laxus to sneak up behind her and read over her shoulder. She had _Vogue_ in her hand, on an article that said, _Hats to make you a beauty! How to stay 10 lbs thinner!_

It took Laxus a moment to recognize that she wasn't really reading, she was watching two girls down the makeup isle. One looked like a miniature version of her, the other was tall and brunette and busty. He recognized Cana in a flash and wasn't disappointed when Cana leaned down and kissed her beau on the mouth right there in the middle of the store. Mira made some kind of strangled noise that was half pleasure and half panic. Girls together wasn't much new. Girls together in public? Stop the press.

Laxus couldn't help himself, he put his arm around Mira's waist and leaned in. "What's wrong, Snow?"

She jumped and turned and hit him across the chest. " _Don't_ sneak up on me." She straightened her shoulders and pushed him off, too. "And don't _drape_ on me. God."

And yet, she looked him up and down thoroughly. Laxus smiled. He knew he looked good. It was still nice to _see_ it on her face, though. "Sorry. So? What's got a bee in your bonnet?"

"Nothing." She closed her magazine and placed it on the counter.

Laxus put his hand to his brow and squinted at her like he was spying from the mast of a ship. "I think I spot a liar."

"I think _I_ spot a cat that thinks he's one cool cookie but really, he's an actor."

Laxus looked up and down the pharmacy then dramatically widened his eyes and touched his chest. "Me?"

"Yes, you." The pharmacist returned with Mira's paper bag and rung her up. When he was done, Mira tried to sneak past Laxus. He moved in her path.

"I don't act anything, baby, I am really just this cool."

She laughed and it came out condescending. "Bull. Scram, shuckster."

"That's not what drunk Mira was saying last night."

"Drunk Mira was drunk."

Laxus returned, "Drunk Mira hands out kisses and is my kind of girl."

"You're definitely a cad," Mira said. Her voice sounded outraged but there wasn't any hiding that smile on her face.

"I got the feeling maybe you are, too. How are the heels of those shoes looking? A little rounded these days?"

Mira gathered up all her things with righteous indignation and twitched for the door. Laxus called at her back, " _Halo's_ pool is open. Bring your stuff, we'll go for a swim."

"Get bent," Mira singsonged and burst out of the pharmacy and into the sun.

* * *

Erza considered wearing the skirt suit Jellal sent to her but ended up going with the tuxedo-style suit instead, complete with pants, purely because it looked the best. The nylons she wore beneath it made the material feel cool against her leg, and the shirt she wore, a pink button up that looked stark against the rest of the black material, was cotton and buttoned to two inches below her collarbone. The last piece of the puzzle was a fedora she carefully worked over her ringletted hair.

Erza parked the Skylark outside of _Halo_ ten minutes to nine and stared at the building. The restaurant's early clientele was petering out and the drinkers were taking up their place. The bar was near full and there was a man in the corner wearing a suit and sporting a microphone. Erza could hear his low baritone voice from inside her car. Some of the tables had been pulled back and a few couples slow danced, though as soon as the music picked up, they'd be jiving.

Erza's stomach clenched once and she knew she was nervous for her first day _undercover_. _Don't be, it's fine. You'll be good at this like you're good at everything else._ But there had been time to _practice_ everything else. _Don't be like that. You'll be good. Better than good. The best._ She checked her glovebox and took a second just to admire the gun the Chief gave to her. It wouldn't be coming inside but it would be out there if she needed it. Erza didn't think about the logistics—how was a gun out in the car supposed to help her if she needed it _inside_? There was no risking bringing a gun into _Halo_ on her first day, otherwise, it might be her last. She'd get a feel for the place before she started doing things like that.

 _Hurry, before you lose ambition._ Erza got out and new sounds met her ears, ones that she was familiar with, ones that almost always spelled trouble: fist on flesh, pained grunting. She followed the noise to the same alley the pool and Jellal's office exited out of and had a hard time seeing, the lights on the side of the building just wouldn't cut through the summer's fog. She picked her way carefully over crates and bits of garbage and was just about to take another step, too, when a body landed at her feet. Erza suffocated a yip. She went immediately for her gun before she remembered that she didn't have it. She clenched her fists instead, the weak substitutes that they were, and said loudly, "Show yourself."

"Miss Scarlet." A figure stepped out of the shadows.

"Mister Fernandez." The term of address only made Acnologia look sour.

He drew on the cigar smoldering between his fingers and said, "I don't think you should be back here, lurking where the lights won't meet the ground. It doesn't seem safe for a lady."

No, it didn't, did it, what with the man wetly breathing at her feet? "I heard noises and thought someone was in trouble."

"There's no reason to worry."

Erza had never been very good at keeping her mouth shut. "You say that but forgive me, there is a man unconscious at my feet."

"You're right." Acnologia's smile could make the cold and dead shiver. "Tell me, Miss Scarlet, how do I get to the Constabulary? I just found one of their men badly beaten behind my son's establishment. I thought I'd return him."

Erza unwillingly took her eyes off Acnologia and focused on the man in question. Beneath the blood and the bruising, she recognized Bacchus Groh. "Did you do that?"

"Me?" Acnologia looked as shocked as an innocent man. Erza was sure it was a front but he was a surprisingly excellent liar when he said, "As I said, I only just found him that way."

"I don't think you're being truthful."

"It's good you're suspicious of everyone, Miss Scarlet. You might yet survive your foolish stint into work outside of your wheelhouse."

 _Halo_ 's side door opened and Jellal's head of dark hair popped out. " _Padre_?"

" _Sì, mio figlio_?"

Jellal's eyes locked on Erza's and the corners of his mouth lifted. He addressed his father but never let his eyes wander. "The car's waiting for you."

Two men Erza didn't see came from the shadows and picked Bacchus up from beneath the armpits. Acnologia said, "Hurry, _Scarletta_ , you wouldn't want to be late on your first day."

Erza didn't know what else to say or what else to do. She watched Acnologia retreat until she could see him no longer and Jellal said, "Are you going to stand out there all night?"

Erza traded looking at the alley's mouth for Jellal's eyes. "What did he do?"

"He?"

" _Bacchus_. What did he do?"

"What makes you think he did anything at all?"

"He was beaten. Why would you have an innocent man beaten?"

Jellal held up his finger and inserted a witticism. "If a man says he's innocent, doll, you know he's lying."

Erza didn't laugh. "Which brings me back to my question, what did he do?"

"He cheated at the poker table," Jellal said after a moment's consideration.

Before she could think better of it, Erza blurted, "I'm not going to be that kind of employee."

One side of Jellal's mouth twitched. "So you still want the job?"

Erza faltered. "Well, yes—"

"I'll let you do you. Come on, get in before the bugs do."

Erza still hesitated. "What's going to happen to Bacchus?"

"He'll be dropped off at the Constabulary, the Chief will see him I suppose, and maybe he'll get a warning, maybe he'll be fired, maybe Mister Groh will get the hint and stop coming into places like this trying to out fox the fox. Now come."

Jellal touched her back between her shoulder blades and guided her inside _Halo_ and thus, into his office. It looked the exact same as the last time she'd been there except Laxus sat in the seat Jellal had previously occupied and there was a hand of cards trapped between his fingers. A cigar smouldered in an ashtray in front of him and beside that was a glass half full of amber liquid. He tapped his foot to Frankie Lymon and the Teenager's _Why Do Fools Fall in Love_.

"Hey, Scarlet."

"Dreyar."

"Make it inside alright last night?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Erza asked.

Laxus looked up from his cards. "Looking a little bedraggled."

Erza touched her curled hair self-consciously before she could think to _not._

"He's lying. You're a sexpot," Jellal said in her ear. "Especially in that suit." He whistled low and long.

Erza blushed; she couldn't help it.

Laxus scoffed. "Liar? Is that how you talk to your friends?"

Erza didn't even attempt to tone back her skeptical look. "Friend?"

"That's what I'd call the guy about to teach me poker."

"What?"

Jellal let his arm slide around her shoulders; he was warm and Erza's heart throbbed once. "You _are_ a liar, Laxus, don't let Erza think that you're not. Don't worry, though. A liar's just what we need right now."

"Why?" Erza wondered.

"Poker's all about one thing, my love. Lying. If you know how to lie, you know how to play." Jellal took her to the loveseat across from Laxus and guided her down. "What do you drink?"

"I'm working—" Erza started.

"Sure you are, and tonight, this is your job." Jellal eyed her skeptically. "Are you a scotch girl?"

"I don't know any girls that are scotch girls. It's a man's drink," Laxus said and Erza took the bait.

"Scotch is fine."

Jellal had her a tumbler poured before she could think about what she said. He threw himself down in the seat beside her, so close that his hip pressed into hers, and picked up a hand of cards from the table. "Ready?"

She thought maybe not but decided to close her eyes and leap down the rabbit hole.


	9. Chapter 9

"Ready?"

That innocent word sent shivers through Erza. _Ready_.

"Erza?"

"Mm?"

His laugh was singular, dark, and so, so close. "I said, are you ready?"

She realized that it wasn't the word at all; it was Jellal's voice. Smooth like caramelized sugar and burned her twice as badly. She shivered and felt his nose pressing into the spot just in front of her ear and his lips tickling her neck. His fingers were in the locks of her hair. _Ready_?

"Come on, doll face, what are you gonna bet?" Laxus prodded and his voice wasn't anywhere near as sweet.

 _Ready_? Erza studied the coffee table. Shot glasses, a mostly empty bottle of scotch—how? How had that happened?—a slew of free cigarettes floating in the pot amongst the coins and the bills that had slowly come out of the woodwork. Originally, they weren't going to play for cash but… Erza never knew she was so competitive but poker was addicting. Winning, actually. Winning was addicting. At first, all she did was lose but now… She was feeling lucky.

 _Ready?_

She grabbed her purse and tilted it upside down. Her change purse fell out, empty, some lipstick, a hairbrush, and lastly, a few small bills. She grabbed up the fistful and put it on the table. Two dollars and fifty cents and that tube of matte red. Everything she had left in the world.

"Seriously, Scarlet?"

"Seriously, Dreyar?"

"She met the minimum bet," Jellal told Laxus and Erza grinned superiorly.

"Hear that? Show me your hand."

Laxus huffed and laid down his cards. He had two pairs. Erza showed him her teeth and smacked her hand down on the table. "Full house. I win. _Again._ That's four times in a row. Eat your heart out."

Laxus sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm bored."

"I'm having a _great_ time." Erza took her purse and put it in Jellal's hands, opening it and forcing him to shove it beneath the lip of the table. She worked quickly so she didn't have to think about how nice his hands felt in hers, how he wasn't soft edges and doughy like she expected a man like him to be. He wasn't only a pencil pusher and a smooth talker like others in his position. Beneath his clothes was muscle, she'd felt it against her all night, his hands had calluses and his knuckles had recently been split. She didn't think she should like that he'd obviously hit something with some force-likely an unsuspecting man, maybe even Bacchus—but she did. He held open her purse patiently while she scooped everything out of the pot and dumped it inside and when Erza was done, Jellal put it back in her hands and leaned back on the loveseat again.

Erza felt his fingers brush her hair; chills came and went. She sat up straight and focused on Laxus. "Deal again."

Laxus shook his head. "I'm tapped."

"Come on," Erza begged.

"I got nothing, doll, not even a cigarette." Laxus wiggled his empty package for her to inspect. "You took everything."

Erza held up her index finger and rooted through her purse. She came out with a bent but in tact cigarette and stood so she could do what she never thought she ever would: shove it between his lips. Jellal laughed; Laxus scowled. Erza looked for a lighter and had none. She sat back heavily and threw her hands up in the air. "That's the best I got."

"I got this." Jellal produced a book of matches and lit Laxus' cigarette for him and the grouchy look on Laxus' face faded. Erza thought it was an act anyway. Who could turn on and off the bitter like that?

"You have a cigarette. Now can we play? I want to kick your ass again, Dreyar."

"It's not just the cigarette, doll."

"Then _what?"_

"Told you, I'm bored," Laxus said.

"How could you be _bored_?"

"We've been playing for hours."

"It hasn't been _that_ long!" She checked the clock on the wall and was awestruck. _How_ was it twelve thirty? _So what?_ "Please!" Erza put aside any reservations she had about begging. She wanted to be the _best_ poker player and this was how she was going to make it happen.

"Call that friend of yours. The one with the hair and I'll reconsider."

Erza snorted. " _All_ my friends have hair."

Jellal laughed yet again and again Erza joined him. Vaguely, she knew that she'd done what her mother had warned her not to. She was drunker than she was completely comfortable with, being friendly with men she didn't know _. Dangerous men_ , she told herself. But they didn't _seem_ very dangerous just then, not with Jellal's fingers still picking at the tips of her hair and Laxus looking sheepish saying, "You know. The one from last night."

It took Erza a moment. " _Mira_?"

He snapped his fingers. "That's the one. Give her a ring. She was a kick."

"No way am I ringing her up for some Clyde that can't even remember her name," Erza said. She tapped the table impatiently. "Loser deals the cards."

Laxus' scowl was back for another appearance. Jellal laughed. "He remembers her name, Erza. Told me all about that one. Call her up if you want."

Erza still shook her head. "If she wanted Laxus to be a bug, she would have asked. Now, are we going to play or not?"

Laxus dropped his quarter smoked cigarette in the rest of his scotch. It fizzled wetly. "Not."

"Come on, Dreyar, don't be a drag."

"No girl, no Laxus." Laxus stood.

" _Okay_ ," Erza said. "Okay. I'll call her."

"Yeah?"

If she had any judgment, this would be against the better of it. She waved her fingers. "Phone."

Jellal produced, grabbing one off the end table and setting it down in front of her. Erza picked it up and dialed in Mira's number. Despite the late hour, Mira answered on the second ring and sounded very much awake.

"Elfman?"

" _No_." Erza laughed.

"Erza? Why are you calling me so late? Is everything alright?" Mira asked immediately.

"Come over."

"To your house?"

"No," Erza snickered. "To _Halo_." She dropped her voice into a whisper. "I brought my bathing suit."

"Did you?"

"Yes. And I want to play poker."

"In your bathing suit?"

Erza popped out her bottom lip. "No. Not probably. Those are for the pool. Bring yours?"

"You said you're at _Halo_?"

"Mmhm."

"I'll be there shortly. Be careful." She hung up. Erza listened to the dial tone buzz in her ear until Jellal took it away from her.

"Well?"

Erza grinned and stood, swaying toward the door. "That was easy. She's coming."

"And you're _going_?"

"To the pool." She yanked open the door and spilled out into the hallway, following its sloping ground. The pool door came out of the shadows, the water's reflection sneaking through the glass and making wavy blue light appear on the ceiling. The smell of chlorine was in the air. She reached for the door; it was pushed open for her. She didn't even _notice_ Jellal was beside her until that moment.

"Are you sober enough to swim?"

Erza slid into the warm and humid room. "Worried?"

"I don't want to have to replace you so soon."

"Then come in with me and make sure I'm alright," Erza said flirtatiously. Then she chewed her cheek and wondered if that was too far. Was she making a fool out of herself? It was hard to judge, given the wide grin on Jellal's face.

"My bathing suit's back in my room."

Erza tossed aside her embarrassment and grabbed her suit jacket, peeling it off and dropping it to the blue tiles, and the shirt beneath. "Mine isn't."

Jellal's smile only got larger. "Miss Scarlet. You're a little more rakish than what I gave you credit for."

"You don't know the half of it," she fibbed and kicked her shoes and her pants off, too, so she was standing only in her purple polka dot bikini.

Jellal looked at her wearing a torn expression.

"Are you just going to stand there staring at me?" Erza asked. "Or will you join me for a swim?"

"I'm not sure my reputation can withstand it. A late night swim with a beautiful and very drunk lady?"

"I wasn't aware you had any pride, Mister Fernandez," Erza teased.

"I'm all pride," Jellal said. "I thought you would have known that."

Erza shrugged carelessly. "It's only a swim."

"Only."

"It would be rude to let me go in on my own."

"Very likely."

"So don't be a wet rag."

"You're right," he said after a moment and started discarding his clothes, all the way down to his underwear. They were briefs and they were white and already, they didn't hide _much._ He had a very nice physique, she ate it up shamelessly, less shy than she would be normally.

"Are you going to ogle me or are we going to swim?" Jellal teased.

"I don't _ogle_ anything," Erza said and found the pool's edge. She dipped her toe in first. Jellal came to her side.

"On three?"

Erza pushed him back and leapt in. Water closed around her and she sank almost to the bottom. It was peaceful down there, for a moment, until Jellal leapt in after her and let himself come down to her level. He outstretched his hand; Erza took it and allowed him to pull her back up again. He didn't let her get away once they'd broken the surface, pulling her in so she either had to push him back or accept their closeness. She settled for gripping his shoulders loosely; he put his hands around her waist.

Erza asked, "Is this how you swim?"

"Its how I _prefer_ to swim."

Erza snorted and leaned back, relying on Jellal to hold her up. He didn't disappoint, allowing her to float. The water took her frantic drunkenness and settled it into something manageable. She breathed deeply, feeling the water lick around her shoulders and her neck and even her ears.

"What are you thinking?" Jellal's exotic voice reverberated lowly in the large room.

"How was I?" Erza asked the ceiling of stars.

"This evening?"

"Mmhm."

"You cleaned out my best poker player."

"He wasn't letting me win?"

"At first. Soon as the cigarettes got on the betting table, though, he was trying."

"Hm. I want to be the best. At everything. Always."

"I admire your enthusiasm."

Erza lifted herself up just a little. "It's not always a good quality. It's what got me fired."

"Is that so?" he asked with a sly smile.

"That's what Briggs said. I was annoying or something because I always wanted to catch the bad guys."

"Isn't that what a constable's _supposed_ to do?"

"Apparently not." Was she again laying it on too thick? It was hard to tell.

Jellal's fingers tightened around her back, pulling her closer again. "Lucky you, you've got a second chance then, huh?"

Erza couldn't tell if he meant she had a second career or if he knew what she was there for. She made her muscles support her in the water and, upright, found Jellal was looking at her with an expression that made her skin heat. She heard herself ask, "What are _you_ thinking?"

He plucked at the wet tresses of red that floated on the water's surface. "I'd very much like to kiss you."

Her heart thundered and her mind scrambled for the best route. Briggs was trilling in her ear that Jellal would spill his guts to his lover but there was another voice telling her to be wary. She leaned on intuition and said more soberly, "I'm not sure that would be appropriate."

"Probably not."

Erza thought he was going to do it anyway but then his hands loosened and she was free to tread the water on her own.

A high voice asked, "Am I interrupting?"

Erza searched and found Mira leaning in the doorway; behind her was Laxus looking miserable to be where he was.

Jellal said, "Not at all, Miss Strauss."

"Did you bring your bathing suit?" Erza asked.

"No." Mira came into the pool and plucked a towel from a rack on the wall.

"Then you came to play poker?"

"Nope."

"Dreyar?"

"Sorry, Scarlet."

Erza looked to Jellal as a last resort. Hell, he was pretty. Devious, but pretty. It should have been but it wasn't even his tattoo that gave him away. It was the tilt of his smile. A simple thing. Mischievous, though. "Will _you_ play?"

"I actually think it's time to call it a night."

"But I was getting good," Erza whined.

"So good, you cleaned out my best poker player. A smart man knows when to bow out."

"Really? You expect me to believe you're afraid I'll clean you out, too?"

"Exactly."

Erza treaded for the edge and used the ladder to haul herself out. "I'll find someone else, then."

Laxus said, "Place is all closed up."

She had no idea if he was lying or not; she didn't even know what time it was, though it had to be late. "Party poopers," she muttered.

"How did you get here, Miss Strauss?" Jellal asked.

Mira was there waiting for Erza when she stepped out of the pool, a towel in hand. "A cab."

"Well then," Jellal said, "I'll drive you ladies home and you, Erza, can thank me in the morning."

"Are you _sure_ you don't want to play poker?" Erza's voice came out a little bouncy as Mira dried her as a mother might, patting her skin dry.

"Tomorrow night, perhaps, after you've sobered and worked off your hangover."

"The _hangover_."

"It's going to be a wicked one, I wager." That seemed to give Laxus a little bit of pleasure.

"Why did I have the scotch?" Erza wondered dramatically.

Jellal climbed out of the pool and got his own towel. "Because you let Laxus goad you into it."

"I did _not_."

He put on a voice and even developed a stern expression, pulling his brows together. " _Scotch is a man's drink_ , _Erza_."

"Fuck you it is."

Jellal lifted his hands, palm-up. "And there you go."

His meaning took some time to dawn on her. "He's mean."

"Ring-a-ding-ding."

"It's my favourite way to be," Laxus gloated.

Erza scowled at Jellal. "And you just _let_ him be like that."

"Let him? It's what I pay him for." Jellal looked at Mira. "Help her dress?"

"Sure."

Erza didn't make it easy on her, even when she knew she was being a pain in the ass. Mira was patient and when Erza was presentable, Mira gave her over to Jellal and together, the three of them exited the pool out the back door, into the alley, leaving Laxus behind.

Erza looked around the parking lot and stopped on her car. "My Skylark is here."

Jellal's fingers spider-walked down her side and dipped into her pocket before she could say a thing. He came out with her keys.

"Hey!"

He put them in his pocket. "Don't worry. I'll make sure it comes home to you."

Erza caved without much pressure. "Before morning. My mom will be _angry._ "

"I wouldn't want to step on Miss Belserion's toes."

"Not in her Mary Janes. She'd skin you," Mira joked.

"Not ever, Mary Janes or not," Jellal replied and Erza looked at him curiously.

"Afraid of a massage therapist, Mister Fernandez?"

"Is that what she does?"

Mira snorted, enticing Erza to ask, "What _else_ would she do?"

Erza realized that she sounded too defensive because Jellal looked down at her and there was no smile on his mouth now. "I was asking. She visited here but I never had the opportunity to speak with her."

"Here?"

"At _Halo_."

Erza didn't know why she was surprised; her mother went a great many places and never bothered giving Erza a play-by-play. "Oh. Yes. Yes, she's a massage therapist. She has really important clients."

"Is she any good?"

"Men come from all over. Women, too," she tagged on so it wasn't so suspicious. Mira had found her straight face and didn't betray Erza's confidence. Erza studied Jellal wondering if he would buy the line and not ask any questions. Maybe. Her mother kept a great deal of her business to herself, after all; not many knew about it. Erza wouldn't, either, except when she was seven she had the misfortune of spying what went on behind closed doors.

"Mm," Jellal grunted. "Maybe you can give me her card?"

"She doesn't take many clients," Erza said immediately.

"Well, then perhaps you have the same touch?"

The question seemed pointed and Erza didn't know how to navigate it or what it meant. "I'm not very good."

"Surely you're being modest?"

Mira cackled and walked faster, away from them. "I tried. I'm sorry."

Erza flushed and struggled to recover. "I don't think it's appropriate to massage my employer."

Jellal said simply, "Think on it."

Erza couldn't help but think they just had a misunderstanding of some kind. She was eager to leave well enough alone, though, and dropped it, hoping it wouldn't ever come up again.

Way at the back of the parking lot, just barely within the circle of light was a very familiar looking Corvette with its top down. Mira was already there. Jellal went to the passenger's side and opened it for them. Erza fell into the leather seats and marveled at how different everything felt now that she wasn't chasing Gray and Zeref through the streets with her gun pointed in Jellal's ribs. _If only you could have seen six months into the future that day_. She would have been nicer to him. Maybe her job would have been easier.

"Move over," Mira said and shuffled her way in beside Erza. Jellal closed the door behind them and went to the driver's side. He didn't open his like Erza thought but leapt over it and into the seat. Mira clapped, Erza joined in, and Jellal smirked. "That's not my only talent."

"I don't even want to know what you're going to follow that up with."

He winked and started the engine. "Thought anymore about dinner, Miss Scarlet? I can get us a reservation before your shift tomorrow." The Corvette roared as it rolled forward.

Erza pursed her lips. "Don't you have work to do? Guns to sell, men to beat—"

"Gangs to subsume?"

"Exactly."

Jellal drove too fast. "The day's long and a man has to eat."

He was shameless. Erza harrumphed.

"If she won't say yes, I will," Mira said. "I'm not committed, Mister Fernandez, and I appreciate fine dining."

"Is that so?"

"Mira," Erza heard herself scold.

"Just saying. If you don't snap that up, it's going to be gone." She, like Jellal, was without shame.

"Is that the kind of thing that works on her?" Jellal asked.

"Never know until you try."

Erza laughed. "You two are brazen."

Mira nudged her. "Let the man take you for dinner. Order the lobster. When you leave him with the tab, no one can say you didn't give him an honest shot." She said at the end, "On the street is fine."

Erza didn't understand. Then she realized they were slowing out front a row of houses. They were at Mira's already.

Jellal said, "Thank you for your help this evening, Miss Strauss."

"I would have had more fun if I was actually part of the party but the car ride was nice," Mira said.

"Next time."

"I guess so." Mira squeezed Erza's hand before getting out.

Jellal pulled off without waiting to see if she got inside. "So?"

"So?"

"Dinner tomorrow?" Jellal prodded. "I can pick you up at seven. We'll eat and then you can start your shift."

"An _actual_ shift this time?"

"Unless you want to emasculate Laxus at the table again?"

She laughed. "The look on his face was priceless. But maybe I should try a night."

"Sure, boss."

Erza realized that his fingers were in her hair again, catching the tresses that the wind kicked up. She shivered and Jellal looked her way for too long, though the car never wavered from the lane. "Are you cold?"

Once she started, it was hard to look away from him. "No."

Like the word granted him permission, he touched her hair more boldly, letting her curls slide through his fingers and Erza thought maybe she should have said yes and been a little less obvious. "You're forward."

"You're not stopping me."

No, she was not.

Jellal ran a clearly red light and didn't even flinch when a car nearly T-boned them. "Do you want me to cut it out?"

"I want you to watch the road."

"That's not a yes."

Erza turned her eyes away from him and watched the intersections whiz by. Jellal accepted her non answer with bewildering ease and let his fingers wander deeper into her hair, tickling the back of her neck. Every time he skimmed her skin, she had chills, good chills and bad chills and _guilt_.

 _Don't think about Gray. Don't. You're working. Don't think. Don't think._ And she didn't. "Do you do this a lot?" Erza still watched the world go by. It was easier.

"What's that, doll?"

"Drive girls around in your sports car, going too fast and running all the reds?"

"I don't take any chicks in my car."

"Not ever?" Erza asked dryly.

"Not this one." He barely slowed to turn onto Erza's street and accelerated too fast. Erza fisted her hands in the fabric of her pants and held onto the door as subtly as she could. She didn't know _why_ Jellal liked to scare her when they drove together—that was the only logical conclusion she could drum up—but she wouldn't let him see her fear.

The car came to an abrupt halt at the mouth of her driveway and Erza made her fingers unclench. "Thanks for the ride home."

"Thanks for coming in." Erza grabbed the door handle but Jellal prosed a question that made her stop. "Still aching over the Constabulary?"

Erza made her brain kick into gear. "Why would I be, when I have a new job?"

He touched her chin with two fingers and turned her head just slightly. There was no escaping his gaze now. Erza stared and pretended that she wasn't. Every one of his features were distinct, right down to his straight nose and his prominent tattoo. He wetted his lips before he spoke and Erza's heart skipped a beat. She wished it wouldn't. "I know this isn't what you wanted to do."

Erza shrugged and hoped that it was minute and full of disappointment. He didn't need to know that she was eager for this work. "It's different."

"What can I do to make it better?"

"I miss my gun," she said on a whim.

Weapons was a language that Jellal could understand. He leaned over her and opened his glovebox. Erza eyed the red leather gloves inside, and the small pistol, too.

"You just carry guns around with you?"

His smile turned wry. "Would I be Magnolia's biggest arms dealer if I didn't?"

"So you admit it, then?" Erza asked before she could think better of it.

"Would you be working for me if there was any doubt in your mind that the rumors were true?"

Erza was still sober enough to think twice about the blatant trap Jellal dropped at her feet. She didn't know how to step around it so she walked through it. "I could ask you the same question, Mister Fernandez. Would you have hired me without my sordid history and gross love affair with the law?"

He plucked a damp lock off Erza's cheek and brushed it back behind her ear. "No."

She went out on a limb. "You like that you don't know if I'm genuine or not."

"Maybe I just like danger."

Erza picked up a bit of Mira's brazenness. "Does that mean you think I'm dangerous?"

"I think that means you're actually too drunk to flirt with me," Jellal said. Erza may have flushed but he put the gun in her hand and opened the door for her by reaching over her lap and she forgot, focused on the scent of his pomade, on his closeness, on his fingers still, still in her hair.

He leaned back and looked into her eyes and Erza didn't know what she expected, but it wasn't, "Goodnight, Erza."

 _Get out._ Otherwise, she'd stay there too long and she'd find out just how brazen scotch made her. The gun went into her pocket and Erza hit the road.

No high heels meant that her ankles didn't wobble on her over the gravel driveway. She needed all the help she could get. Halfway to the house, the front door opened and Erza vaguely recognized the man exiting; it was the same man that had been there days before. Erza smiled at him and hoped that it was polite and non-judgemental. She thought she was transparent because he put his head down and hurried down the walkway to his cherry red Cadillac parked again on the street. Erza turned to watch him go and used it as an excuse to spy Jellal's Corvette. The engine revved and the tires squealed as he tore down the street. When he was gone, Erza thought she could breathe easier but promptly after his taillights disappeared around the corner, headlights filled the driveway and she was looking into the grill of a familiar truck.

The driver's side door opened and Erza felt a stone drop in her stomach when Gray, bedraggled and looking exhausted, step from his truck. She ran her tongue over her teeth and knew how much she reeked of scotch. She wanted something to mask the smell and fumbled a procured cigarette from her purse. She struggled to get it lit only to remember that she still had no lighter. The cigarette was broken anyway. She dropped it to the porch as well as her purse and put her efforts toward thinking of an explanation. Living a double life was harder than she envisioned. _And you've only just begun._

Gray trudged halfway up the stairs and dropped himself on one of the wooden steps. He put his back to the bannister and tilted his head back and then heaved a huge sigh. He sat like that for a moment, straddling the stair, not saying anything, eyes closed, chest rising and falling. Erza did nothing. He peeked at her from beneath his lashes. "Hey."

She came unstuck and tried to make herself sound sober. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you."

"It's so late."

"I know. Sorry. Your mom answered the phone, though, and said to come by. Didn't she tell you?"

"Yes. Right."

Gray was obviously distracted and didn't notice her fumble. "I _wanted_ to come by earlier today but I got called into work."

Erza looked at his rumpled uniform, his at-odds hair and the bags under his eyes. "You look like you had a bad day."

"I got a new partner," Gray said. "Bacchus Groh."

"Groh?" Erza repeated, remembering Acnologia roughing him up in the alley. He had demons, Groh, and, "He's a drunk."

Gray threw his hands up in the air. "That's what I told the Chief! Did he care, though? ' _You're a pariah, Fullbuster. So's Bacchus. You're a match made in heaven,'_ or some nonsense. I tried to tell him to take a hike but…"

But Gray liked his job. "Maybe it'll be okay."

Gray curled his nose up. Erza was expecting something much more argumentative than, "Maybe." Gray opened his eyes completely and focused on her. "Aren't you going to come sit?" He seemed to notice what she was wearing then. "Did you go out somewhere?"

"Yes," she said then wondered if she should have said no. But of course, yes, she was in a tuxedo suit and her hair was wet and there was lipstick on her mouth, for God's sake.

The truth came to Gray without Erza ever having to say a thing. "You went to _Halo_."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Erza fell into the old, truthful her and spilled. Partially. "Jellal asked me to come play poker tonight."

"Jellal."

"Mister Fernandez," she corrected; it only made things worse. Gray looked like he's sucked on a lemon.

"What do you see in that guy?"

"I don't see anything," Erza responded.

"Really? Because—"

"Because _what_?" Erza asked. "Because I went to a joint and played poker? _Lots_ of people do that."

She waited for him to explode, for this whole going separate ways to be easier.

He must have known her better than Erza gave him credit for because Gray evaluated the situation and said, "You're right."

It was completely unsatisfying, Erza wanted a fight if only to make herself feel less guilty for _nothing_.

"Come sit with me?" Gray asked and after a moment where Erza clenched and unclenched her fists, thinking of ways to justify her actions, she felt shame and went to sit between his spread legs. Gray wasted no time in leaning forward and kissing her. There was no chance in hiding the alcohol on her breath. He tasted it; she knew it because he stiffened. He kissed her deeper instead of complaining like she thought he might.

Gray used to take his time in touching her, back when he didn't know exactly what she liked and how she liked it. Now, he made short work of getting her wet between her legs. He kissed her neck and teased the undersides of her breasts, he grabbed her behind and let his fingers wander and linger on her inner thigh; he bit her shoulder and sighed in her ear. The same ear Jellal whispered into.

Erza broke away from Gray and stood. She parted with her jacket and fumbled with the buttons of her shirt. It was undone to her belly button before Gray realized completely what she was doing.

"We're on your mom's porch, Erza."

She almost said, _So?_ She'd seen her mother out there more than once with one man or another. Last second, she realized how unhinged that sounded, and all because some man other than her beau was making eyes at her. _And you liked it._ "Take me somewhere," she demanded.

Gray stood and guided her to his truck. At the passenger's side, he opened the door and lifted her in and Erza kissed him again, thoroughly. He pressed into her and she felt everything. An undeniable thrill moved through her. She grabbed him and he panted.

"Wait," Gray said, though he allowed her to stroke him through his pants for thirty long seconds afterward. His bottom lip disappeared, bitten as it always was when he was feeling good, and Erza decided the truck was private enough. She scooted back on the seat and pulled Gray in by his stained tie.

"Close the door."

Gray did exactly what she asked and undid his pants all on his own without Erza having to demand that, too. She lay back on the seat and pulled at her own clothes. Her wet bathing suit stuck. She missed dresses in that moment; they at least made this easier. When she was free, she made Gray work for everything she gave him and he tolled away with the same life he had when he first kissed her on the porch. If it was tainted with jealousy, Erza pretended not to notice.

—

Laxus smoked his cigarette almost to the filter between the alleys, studying the wall. The skull mural looked more menacing by the moonlight; he watched it eat and eat everything and wondered if, when Jellal painted it, _he_ was supposed to be the skull consuming all of _everything_ or if he was the galaxy and the skull was his greed, eating everything he was. Then he wondered if he didn't wonder _too much_. He wasn't an art critic, nor did he give much of a fuck.

"Mister Dreyar."

Acnologia was recognizable even by his silhouette. Laxus studied him in the doorway of his son's office. How didn't he notice the old man sneak up on him? The fucking light was bleeding into the alleyway, for shit's sake. "Yeah."

"A man's here looking to purchase some merchandise." Laxus couldn't see Acnologia's face but his annoyance at the informal greeting was evident in Acnologia's voice. Laxus didn't give a shit about that, either. He worked for Jellal, not Acnologia.

"Thought the boss put you in charge of that?"

Acnologia said something that piqued Laxus' interest. "I'd prefer if you handled this one."

"Top dog in Alvarez handing off the making of a deal to a second-rate lackey. Must be slimy as shit if you don't want to touch it," Laxus said.

Without being able to see Acnologia's eyes, Laxus had no idea how close he was to being shot. He had a good imagination. _Good. Maybe if he pulls his gun, you can shoot without fear of repercussions and he'll be done with._ No more wondering why Jellal's old man came to town. No more wondering if there was going to be _more_ upheaval for the Dreyars.

Acnologia used his words, not his guns. Pity. "He's waiting in my son's office."

Laxus dropped his cigarette and it fizzled in a puddle. "Best if I handle it anyway. Don't want any mistakes."

Acnologia eyed him long and hard as Laxus walked by. He still didn't make a move for the pistol on his hip, though.

Laxus' steps almost faltered when he came out of the alley. Last-minute, he saved making a fool of himself. Acnologia left, closing the door, and Laxus focused all of his attention on Precht, who stood behind Jellal's massive leather chair, ringed fingers sliding over its back while he studied the wall full of Meredy's original paintings. He made no indication that he'd heard the altercation, saying without turning, "She's a talented artist."

"Meredy's one in a million," Laxus said after a moment. "What can I help you with, Mister Gaebolg?"

He looked over his shoulder, turning his glass eye to Laxus. "I'm looking to acquire some weapons."

Laxus hoped that his, _'are you fucking crazy'_ look properly conveyed what he was thinking. "Weapons."

"Yes. Guns, Mister Dreyar. Mister Fernandez _is_ still in the dealing game, isn't he?"

"He is," said a new voice and Laxus thought maybe he was on the stick tonight or something. First Scarlet kicked his ass at poker, then the old man _and_ Jellal snuck up on him. He kept his surprise from his face.

Precht looked over Laxus' shoulder and smiled. It never reached his eyes. Had it _ever_? "The man himself. What an honour."

Jellal slid into his office. He'd already parted with his shoes and his socks made no sound on the wood floor. Laxus wondered if he hated getting caught like that, relaxing for the night. If he did, he hid it well because he sounded as professional as ever asking, "What are you looking for, Mister Gaebolg?"

"As much firepower as you can sell."

Laxus remembered how to do his job. "What's the occasion?"

Precht said, "Another body showed up today, out by the docks."

"Heard about that," Laxus said. "The docks aren't yours, though, are they?"

"Did you not hear?" Precht asked. "Mermaids' Heel has either scattered or they're dead. _Someone_ had to move into the shipping yard, otherwise, it'd be overrun by thugs."

"And now it's just _your_ thugs," Laxus said. He felt Jellal's gaze slide his way. Laxus kept his eyes locked on Precht.

"The evil you know is always best," Precht replied. "Will you outfit me?"

"If you have money, Sir, I'll sell you any little thing you want," Jellal said. He took a decanter off his desk and a fresh tumbler and filled it with bourbon. He handed the glass to Precht and said to Laxus, "Show him our goods, Laxus."

"This way," Laxus said and led on.

—

Laxus came into Jellal's office forty-five minutes later and sat heavily in the chair on the opposite side of the desk. Jellal didn't move from his position—his socked feet were up on his desk, he was slumped in his chair, his eyes were on the ceiling. A cigar smouldered between his fingers and the smoke was the only lively thing in the room, coiling upward. He was so still, Laxus almost got up to see if there was a bullet hole in Jellal's chest that he wasn't aware of. Maybe his old man came in and put one between his ribs.

Jellal shattered the illusion by asking, "What did he buy?"

"Almost a little bit of everything that we have up front," Laxus said. "Pistols, rifles, tommy's. A lot of bullets. Even a few grenades."

"Do you know how many grenades I've moved in the last six months?" Jellal answered his own question. "More than I have in the last five years. I feel like I should be unsettled but…"

"But?"

Jellal turned his head and met Laxus' eye. "War is good for everyone."

"War's good for you. It's good for me, too, because we sell this shit. But it's not fucking good when the people are buying _your_ merchandise to come into _your_ house and shoot the joint up."

Jellal's mouth twitched and the smile that came out of it was a little bit manic. "Poetic, isn't it?"

Laxus had another word. "Crazy. Why did you sell to him at all when you think he's on Zeref, eh?"

"I thought you were good at poker?"

"I'm good at staying _alive_ ," Laxus said. "It's pouring out there, we have a boat, but we're standing on the fucking ground, tempting the floodwaters. _Why_?"

"Because the boat may be sinking. I'm waiting for the rats to flee before I think it's salvation."

"What in the good fuck are you talking about? Be plain." Like Jellal ever _could_ be.

Jellal put his feet on the ground and got his elbows on his desk. He rested his chin on his clasped fists and pursed his lips in thought. Smoke looped in front of his eye but didn't seem to bother him. Laxus didn't get the answer he thought was coming his way. Jellal asked, "Did you tell Precht you reconsidered his offer?"

"I told him I'd deliver the guns to him personally tomorrow," Laxus replied cautiously. "I figured we'd talk about it then. It'd be less suspicious on his own grounds."

"Good. He may shoot you."

"Do you think?"

"I might, after that display you put on tonight, asking all those questions."

"What was I _supposed_ to do?"

"Ask questions," Jellal confirmed. Laxus thought about throttling him. "You did well. Guys like Precht don't like it when you go too willingly to their side. They'll think you're a cheat, willing to bail for the best deal and we don't want that. We want him to trust you."

"This is probably the craziest shit I've ever done," Laxus muttered.

Jellal shrugged. "Sink or swim, Laxus."

Laxus pondered—was he just inadvertently called a rat? He tried to take the limelight off him. "Wasn't your father supposed to take care of the face to face?"

"It seems senility's paid a visit." That was the first time Laxus saw Jellal as anything other than composed; he held his cigar tight enough that the leaf crinkled and came unglued at the end. It was ruined; Jellal noticed and took in a deep breath. His features smoothed. "It all worked out, though, didn't it?"

"Or it will. I'm meeting Precht tomorrow at Grimoire. Ten o'clock. If I make it back here alive, we'll have some extra cash to burn."

Usually, the prospect of an influx of money made greedy Jellal smile but tonight, he didn't even blink. "Good. I'm sending Gajeel out tomorrow to remind Zeref we're waiting for an answer."

"Heavy night."

"Everyone earns their dues."

"No quarter from you, eh? A guy can't catch a break."

"If tomorrow's lucky, we should do all the hard work then, shouldn't we?"

Laxus scrubbed his hair. "Do I get backup at least?"

Jellal considered, weighing the pros and cons of sending Laxus on his own. Laxus felt like his fate was getting decided right then and there, which was ridiculous because the presence or absence of one man wasn't going to make a difference when all of Precht's forces were coming at him with muzzles blazing.

"You're going to need help moving the crates, so choose someone. Someone you trust."

"I'll take Bickslow," Laxus replied.

Jellal sat back in his chair again and put his feet back up on his desk, donning the expression he always did when his mind was on the colour red. Laxus left him to it.


	10. Chapter 10

The second-day hangover was worse than the first in most ways, though Erza supposed she knew what to expect this time around. She took the aspirin Gray suggested she set out before leaving her behind and she swallowed back a whole glass of water. It sat in her stomach like a lump of bricks that only got heavier when she dared to move. She couldn't stay where she was, though. Her mother tromped up the stairs and clarified that for her when she tried to convince herself otherwise.

"It's three o'clock." Eileen didn't try to check her voice or be gentle in any way.

"You used to be nicer when you woke me," Erza complained.

Eileen crossed Erza's small room and threw open her dark blue drapes. "You never used to come home like this." Erza pulled her covers up over her head and hid from the blazing sun. Blankets didn't deter Eileen. She sat beside Erza and peeked beneath the corner of the blanket. Her perfume wafted in, Elderberry.

"What do you want?" Erza groused.

"For you to get up. Don't you work today?"

"Yes," Erza said. "I do. Later. I'm preparing myself. I'm in the poker room tonight."

"You're sleeping off a hangover but nice try. Have you told Gray that you're working for Mister Fernandez?"

Erza cracked an eyelid and spied her mother looking merciless. She wished she could say something other than, "No."

"I suppose that means you didn't tell him you were thinking about kissing Mister Fernandez last night, either."

"I was _not_ —"

"You _were_. You can lie to yourself, you can lie to your beau, but you can't lie to your mother, Erza," Eileen said firmly. "You should either call it quits with Mister Fernandez or tell Mister Fullbuster that you're through."

"I will."

"Do which?"

Her mother was _merciless._ "I will tell Gray that we're done."

There weren't many times Erza could remember her mother being surprised. This was definitely one of them. "You're going to end your relationship and remain at _Halo_."

Her stomach flopped. "Yes."

"I see."

"You were the one telling me not to marry Gray," Erza reminded her.

"Had I seen that his replacement was going to be _Jellal Fernandez_ , I—" She trailed off.

"You what, Mother?"

Eileen stood. "I'm leaving for the evening; you'll have to call a cab to get to work." Just like that, the motherly lecture was over.

Erza, feeling like a proper liar, kept her dinner plans and her chaperone to herself, especially after that display. Her mother was already out for blood, there was no reason to give her any more prey to hunt. "I'll get it figured out."

"Have a good night at work." Eileen took herself and left Erza to prepare for her first night of acting her part. Erza looked after her for too long, turning her words over in her mind. She picked up the phone eventually and dialed in Gray's number. She knew he was at work but she felt justified letting it go to voicemail and told herself that she tried.

* * *

Gray could find his new partner anywhere, all he had to do was follow his nose, the smell of cigarettes and vodka, Groh's drink of choice, could lead the blind.

Groh was questionably functioning by the coffee machine in the lunch room just beyond the bullpen, late for work but in a uniform that was at least clean. His hair had been brushed and he even had his hat beneath his arm, which, honestly, was more than Gray was expecting. He poured himself the largest cup of coffee Gray had ever seen and didn't skimp on the sugar, either. Gray curled his nose.

"Coffee's not going to cover up the smell of alcohol."

Groh turned and showed off his black eye and split lip. Gray almost hissed in sympathy, it looked painful. He toned it back last second. "You look like shit." The eye that wasn't black was blue beneath from lack of sleep.

"And you look like the Constabulary's golden boy again."

Gray had already determined that it was going to be a shitty day; Bacchus' attitude only affirmed that. "I got the keys, let's hit the road."

Bacchus patted the air. "In a few."

"In a few? Why?"

"Got some stuff to take care of," he said vaguely and left it at that. Gray looked after him for a moment, then resigned himself to making his own coffee. He was halfway through putting cream in when he heard a commotion in the bullpen. He took in a breath, listening to the voices, though he already knew in his gut that was his new partner out there, causing a scene. Gray debated on ignoring the argument and just leaving. He'd call the station from the bank on fifth and tell the Chief to send Groh over. He heard a crash and several gasps and thought, _nope_ , and took his coffee with him to investigate.

Everyone in the bullpen was out of their seats when Gray arrived on scene. No one was talking, the only sound Groh struggling to get to his feet from his place on the floor. Groh's once clean uniform was tousled and wet with blood, his nose was bleeding and Jura, surprisingly, was the cause. The other man stood over Groh and looked down his nose with an unsavory look on his face. Groh was halfway up when he lashed out and tried to get Jura between the legs. Jura was a hairsbreadth faster and punched Groh once sharply in the chin. Groh rocked back but like a rabid dog tried to come at Jura again. Gray interrupted, pushing his partner back hard enough that he stumbled into a desk. Papers scattered and Groh fell. Gray directed his attention at Jura, who usually was much more composed. "What the hell is happening?"

"Groh is apparently a disgrace to policemen everywhere, if I gathered correctly? Groh didn't like the assessment and Jura is proving that it's true." Ultear's voice was like cold water sliding down Gray's neck, and he felt her fingers on his bicep with startling clarity.

Well, he _knew_ his partner was a disaster, that was no secret, but what made calm Jura so irritated? "What happened?"

"This dog was dropped on the Constabulary's steps last night looking like a piece of meat," Jura said candidly, and Gray again heard the term, " _Disgraceful_."

"And I say mind your own fucking business, rock for brains," Bacchus snapped, spitting mad. He continued his rant, though this time in a language Gray didn't know. He caught the gist of it, and so did Jura, and there Jura was again, balling his fists together.

The front door of the constabulary opened and Chief Briggs entered. Reception was in front of the bullpen and there was a glass wall and blinds separating them but just then, that didn't feel like much, especially when those blinds were open. Gray grabbed a still cursing Bacchus up by the collar and turned toward the locker room. People parted for them. Bacchus tripped and stumbled and called Gray every name he'd ever heard and some he hadn't, and on the way in, he grabbed the doorframe. Gray dug his shoulder into the man's back and it wasn't difficult to push him through; he was still on last night's drunk, obviously. Bacchus stumbled into the bench seat in the middle of the room and attempted to rise again.

Ultear twitched by Gray and grabbed Bacchus by the shoulder, pushing him down. "Stay, you fool. You think Jura doesn't know what you called him? He'll have you beaten to a pulp before you can even make it out of these doors. Cool it."

Gray didn't even know she was following them. He looked at her incredulously and said the first thing that came to his mind. "This is the men's room."

Ultear rolled her eyes. "You think I haven't been in the boy's room before, Fullbuster?" He didn't even know what to say to that. His ears were burning, though. Ultear disregarded his discomfort and pulled a handkerchief from _somewhere_ and handed it to Bacchus. "You're a fucking mess."

"Thanks, lovely."

Ultear's smile was supposed to be sweet. It wasn't anything of the sort. "You're silver tongued, aren't you, Groh?"

"I've been told a time or two."

"Maybe you can give your partner some lessons? The last time we were together, he told me to get the fuck out of his house."

Bacchus squinted. "First that redhead, Fullbuster, now this fox?" His whistle was garbled by his fat lip. "I didn't even know there was trouble in paradise but nothing slows you down, eh? Maybe I misjudged you."

All the blood rushed to Gray's head. "It _wasn't_ like that."

"Like?" Ultear piped up with a lift of her brow.

"Like?" Groh repeated.

Gray fumbled. "She stayed to take care of Freed. Erza and I are fine. Everything is fine." If he ignored the alcohol on Erza's breath, the late night out with Jellal Fernandez and her scarceness lately.

Groh laughed. "I know that look, Clyde. My house is burning and everything is fine." He got up well before Gray could figure out what to say and went to his locker, located on the backside of the locker rows by the showers. Gray listened to him open the squealing metal door and get out a fresh-pressed uniform. The shower came on, too. Ultear still stood there. She had been looking Bacchus' way with mild interest but now she focused on Gray.

"You should watch your partner doesn't piss off the wrong people and end up in Fairy Lake. Rumor mill says the guys that did him up like that aren't real nice."

"Thanks." Gray's smile was more of a sneer.

"No problem. You can pay me back tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yeah." Ultear stepped into him and made a show of fixing his collar. "Where do you like to go, baby? Rose's or do you cook? I wouldn't mind eating in."

"This is the men's room," Gray said again weakly, at a total fucking loss. He'd never had a woman as forward as Ultear. Even sure-as-they-come Erza was a little more reserved.

"Your place then." Ultear reached into her bra and pulled out a piece of paper which she put in Gray's hand and closed his fingers on it for him because he was too numb to do it all on his own. "Call me when you're done." She winked and took herself from his sight. The water turned off just as the door closed. Bacchus came out, wrapped in a towel. He looked a little more presentable, save for his black eye and a swollen lip. He even looked a little soberer, too.

Gray was thankful for something else to focus on and asked, "Who tuned you up?"

Bacchus started pulling clothes out of his locker and dressed. "No one."

"Bullshit. That's assault, we should bring them in."

"Cool it, Officer McGraw. Just had a disagreement about a price is all."

"And your reluctance to press charges tells me everything I need to know about that disagreement," Gray muttered.

"Now you're catching on. Let it lie." He buttoned up his shirt and tucked it into his pants.

"You're shady as fuck, you know that?"

"Sure I do. It's that shade that's going to get us some answers, though. I know a joint on Arabella. The girls there know a lot about what happens on the streets."

"Hallelujah." Gray was heavy on the sarcasm, feeling more focused when he was jabbing at Bacchus, not listing in a vast ocean of doubt, wondering what he was still doing with Ultear's number when he should have just thrown it in the garbage.

Bacchus acted like he was the one holding up the team. "Let's get to it, we have a killer to catch."

* * *

You couldn't strap a gun to your leg in a pantsuit. There was an artfulness to it, wasn't there? The baddies were expecting some docile dame and she tugged up her skirt and came out, guns blazing, a regular femme fatale. Marie Windsor, as Gray liked to call her.

Okay. She'd only let the guns blaze once.

Sort of.

She punched Gajeel Redfox in the face. And, of course, Zeref Dragneel, too, and that was basically the same thing. That'd been a painful little treat because her knuckles were still bruised from Gajeel's hard head, but it was worth every bit of agony afterward.

Erza cinched her gun to her leg, lost in memory and half-tempted to put on her pants. She'd thought about her wardrobe long and hard and decided that if she wanted to make a no-nonsense impression, she needed to wear the skirt and tempt the men that would mock her to do it early on so she could slap them down right early.

The doorbell rang, loud and clear and she almost dropped the pistol. She caught it out of the air, fumbling it end over end, and laughed when the nose landed in her palm. Good thing the safety was on. She took the stairs two at a time in a pair of low heels. It had been a challenge, deciding exactly how much she was going to get dressed up. She made this concession and had borrowed her mother's curling iron again. Otherwise, she wore a little bit of lipstick and some mascara but that was all Mister Fernandez was getting and if he didn't like that then it was too flipping bad for him, wasn't it?

She pulled open the door and Jellal stood on her doorstep looking a little out of place in her shabby home in his hundreds of dollar suit and shiny shoes. His Corvette sat in the driveway looking just as displaced. "Hi, Erza."

"Jellal," she replied, just as informal.

His grin turned lopsided. "You're beautiful, absolutely ravishing."

"Do you ever get sick of throwing around compliments?" she asked as she grabbed her hat from the coatrack just inside the door.

"When a lady has a gun? Never."

Erza remembered the pistol she still hadn't put away and lifted her skirt enough to jam it in its holster. Jellal's brow raised and Erza flushed.

"I'll get you a shoulder holster," he said without hesitance.

"Then it wouldn't be very artful," Erza replied.

"No, I suppose not. You'll need one for your pantsuit, though, won't you?"

"Yes," she said after a moment. "That would be good."

"Consider it done."

Erza grabbed some better shoes for working in a little later and tucked her hat beneath her arm. She made sure to lock the house behind her just in case. She never thought she and her mother would be robbed but the criminals in Magnolia were doing strange things lately.

Jellal offered her his arm and after a bit of consideration, too long, to be honest, she took it. Her hesitation didn't deter Jellal, not a man like him, it seemed to give him life.

"Are you going to get bored if you finally do win me over?" Erza was surprised to hear herself ask.

Jellal glanced at her and there was a wicked smile on his mouth. "When, Erza, not if." He adjusted his hold on her so his hand was around her back and their hips were pressing together. "I could never get bored of you."

"You must have lots of women."

He didn't even try to defend himself. "Never in my life has a dame pulled a gun on me. She's never seen me in such a clear light. She's never played the no bullshit game so well."

"Which makes me ask again, what will you do when I stop denying you? That's the fun, isn't it?"

Erza could _feel_ his interest spike like an electric shock moved through his body. Hers responded in turn and she had butterflies in her stomach. She tried to squash every single one of them, telling herself that it was just an act. Jellal said, "Do you want to skip dinner and find out?" And Erza's attempts went soaring out the window. She stammered and wished that they were fisticuffing instead of navigating this hellish conversation. She could throw a right hook. She couldn't think of clever witticisms to do this dance.

Jellal reached around her and opened the Corvette's door. "Maybe we'll start with dinner first. Get in, love."

Erza gladly slid away from him and into the seat. She took her time adjusting her spare shoes at her feet and putting her hat on her knees. By the time she was finished, Jellal had gotten into the car, this time using the door for what it was meant for. Erza lost herself to the rumble of the engine when it came to life and was thankful that Jellal didn't try to push her any further, she needed to get her ducks in order, apparently. She started by telling herself that at the Constabulary, she was the best at everything because she _worked_ to be the best at everything. She could be the best at getting information from the enemy, too, she just had to work at that, as well.

By the time the car slowed out front of Arum's Tavern, an expensive restaurant Erza had never been in but plenty of men had taken her mother to, she felt calmer and more in control. She left her shoes in the car and her hat, too, and got the door open before Jellal could come and do it for her. He expected a certain demeanor from her and she'd give it to him. The easiest way to play the game was to pretend that she wasn't playing one. The only concession she offered was to allow herself to take his arm when he put it out for her. It was a date, after all.

* * *

Laxus learned early that if he wanted something done and he wanted it done _quickly_ and without much hassle, all he had to do was hover. People got uncomfortable when he stood at their shoulder, towering over them, and uncomfortable people were apt to give him what he wanted. Only the foolish ones didn't, and they didn't stay foolish for long by one way or another. Tonight, he hovered over Jose in the small office in the back of Rose's and waited for the gangly little worm to write the proper names and draw up the right totals.

"You're cleaning me out of my supply," Jose whined from his messy, mahogany desk. "I'll be out by the end of the night."

"You're doing pretty good business here at Rose's, aren't you?" Laxus mused.

Jose looked at him warily. "I do alright."

"Alright enough, sounds like, to pay a little extra tax."

"What?"

Laxus was plain, picking up one of the receipts Jose had laying on his desk from the weekend. He was well into the green. "Looking at this, I don't think Mister Fernandez is charging you enough."

Jose's cheeks went pink. "I'm already giving him a quarter of my profits!"

"And it looks like you could give more."

"I think _not._ I have expenses. I have a family; I have—"

"To shut the fuck up and sign the fucking papers," Laxus said quietly. "I don't have time for this shit." It was quarter after nine already. He didn't think he was going to be late, but he wanted to be at least a little bit early, make a good impression.

"Mister Dreyar—"

Laxus grabbed Jose's shoulder and pushed him back in his high-backed chair. He really was thin, thin enough that his bones poked through the cheap suit he wore. "You're not really necessary to run my favourite joint, are you?"

Jose sputtered.

Laxus smacked him hard on the back and Jose's whole body rocked. "I'm pulling your chain." He wasn't. "Sign those papers and give me the liquor, let's go. I have a truck pulled up to your back door waiting for its belly to be filled with product."

Jose scribbled his name. "The boxes are in the store room."

"I already have my men working on it," Laxus told him.

The vein in Jose's forehead twitched. He knew better than to have an outburst, though he did ask, "Are you really going to increase my tax?"

"I haven't decided yet."

Jose wrung his hands together and tried to please. "Do you want a drink while you wait for your men to load?"

"I'll do that." Laxus traded the office for the bar. He stood out in his Armani here, it was a classy joint but not really fit for those kinds of threads. He was feeling good about it, though, when he spotted her at the bar. Tonight she'd squeezed herself into a long-sleeved red dress and on her feet were tall high heels. Too tall for a nice girl to wear. He could only imagine that Mirajane was planning on having a not very nice evening and fuck if he didn't want to be the one she wasn't very nice with.

She spotted him before he could sit down beside her and her facial expressions went through several evolutions. Surprise. Hesitance. Interest. "Mirajane."

"Hullo, Mister Dreyar." She faced the bar again. There was a mischievous quirk to her red lips that he wanted to commit to memory.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"Yes," she said without hesitance. The bartender came back with a martini and Mirajane said, "It's on him."

"And bring me a scotch. Something nice," Laxus said. "And keep it clean." The bartender went to do his bidding and he turned back to Mira. "So we meet again."

"Seems like, Sherlock."

"Sherlock?"

"Holmes? Don't you read?" She sipped her martini and Laxus both liked and loathed the superior look in her eye.

"Sure I do. Doesn't answer my question."

"Sherlock was a clever detective."

"Sounds just like me."

"Sarcasm, dear Watson."

Laxus curled his nose, not getting that, either, but he didn't want to ask and give her the chance to look superior again—unless he was tied up in ropes and Mirajane was leaning over him, then that was okay. The music on stage changed and a woman's voice filled the bar. Laxus looked over his shoulder and saw Mira's doppelganger on stage. "Don't look now but there's two of you."

Mira turned and her whole demeanor softened. "That's my baby sister."

"She looks nicer than you." It was true. A person couldn't fake that kind of genuineness. It was in her mouth as she sang into the mike in a high-pitched and clear voice, it was in her soft eyes. Laxus whistled lowly.

"You're not her type," Mira said concisely.

"I'm everyone's type," Laxus said. Mira held his shoulder while she laughed the kind of laugh that was snorting and heartfelt. She almost spilled her drink over his pants. Laxus took it from her and set it back on the bar. "What?" He sounded defensive even to his own ears. "I'm a good looking guy."

Mira got herself under control and sat back up. She really looked at him for the first time and he saw that her eyes were already a little glossy. "You're not pretty enough for her."

"So she likes dames. Could be, she likes Tom Cats, too."

"Doubt it."

The song ended and the girl started to get off the stage. Laxus stood. "We can find out. What's her name?"

Mira pulled him right back down. "Her name's Lisanna and if you start drawing designs on her, I'll eat you for breakfast."

"After a long night together?" Laxus suggested, giving all of his attention to Mira once more. "A night _nicer_ than last night?"

"I had to make sure Erza wasn't getting picked apart by you two."

"She didn't get into nothing she didn't want to get into, just like I told you."

"And just like I told you, you're a rogue hound. Leave my sister alone."

"I was just joshing. She's cute but she's not very mean and mean's what I like."

"How would you know if she's mean or not?"

"Look at her," Laxus said. "Lisanna Strauss is a _nice_ girl."

Mira muttered something beneath her breath that Laxus missed. He was distracted from asking her because the door at the far end of the bar opened and Bickslow came in from the loading docks. He found Laxus at the bar and nodded. Laxus shot back the rest of his scotch and dropped the tumbler back to the bar.

"That was quick. Looking to get messy tonight?"

Laxus winked. "Maybe later, time for me to agitate the gravel, baby."

"What did I tell you about pet names?"

"You gotta be different from everyone else, huh?"

Mira's voice got low and smoky and sent chills through him. "I _am_ different from all the other girls you've had."

Laxus longed to ask her in precisely _which ways_ but Bickslow was still watching, tapping his fingers on his biceps and Laxus could feel his impatience. He, too, was eager to get this night over with. "I want to hear all about this but we have to finish it a little later."

"Or not."

Laxus didn't let her cool demeanor fool him. She was having at least a little bit of fun, there was a smile on her mouth. He pushed his luck. "Come by _Halo_ later."

"With my swimsuit?" she asked blandly.

"I'd prefer if you went in without it but you're the boss."

Mira turned her back on him, muttering again. This time, Laxus heard her say, "Cad," beneath her breath. Laxus wasn't at all deterred. "Tell the girl up front that I told her to let you downstairs." Mira harrumphed and Laxus said, "See you then, dolly." That earned him another scowl. He loved it.

* * *

Grimoire was a massive stone building, her walls, much like _Halo's,_ was built with money garnered from drug running. Though the club was usually packed with the people that couldn't afford to get into _Halo_ or weren't welcomed there, tonight her parking lot was empty. Laxus spied it from the passenger's seat and psyched himself up for his evening.

"When we get there, stay in the truck. I got business I have to take care of," he told Bickslow.

Bickslow turned the wheel and brought them down a gravel delivery path behind the building. "What's going on?"

"Just do what I say, got it?" Laxus replied.

Bickslow was always one for a good secret. He wanted to know more but held off on his questions. "Sure."

Grimoire from behind was a beast bathed in moonlight. The spires of the steepled roof looked like bones protruding through a back gnarled with scales, and the windows were like many dead eyes looking out; they were black, not a light was on inside.

"Doesn't look like anybody's home."

"He's here," Laxus said. "Pull into the loading dock."

Bickslow took both his guns from his shoulder holster before he did anything. One he kept in his hand as he moved the wheel, the other rested on the dash within reach.

"Don't shoot anyone unless you have to," Laxus said. "I got a hot date tonight."

"The dame from the bar?"

"The very same."

"She didn't look too interested, boss," Bickslow said almost apologetically.

"We'll see." Laxus undid his window and stuck his head out to watch Bickslow reverse down the ramp. The summer night air bled into the cab, cool enough that wearing his suit was comfortable. He appreciated it while he could. Soon he'd be packing on the deodorant and still sweating through his threads.

When they were only a few feet away, the bay door opened and light cut through the shadows. Two men waited on either side of the door, standing in a large, concrete room ignited by chain lights. Both held M3's—pointed at the ground, yes, but Laxus didn't care for _any_ submachine gun at _any_ time. They did too much damage.

"That's a little overstated, isn't it?" Bickslow asked.

"Be cool," Laxus replied.

Bickslow tightened his hold on his pistol. "Precht's guys have never greeted us with guns before."

Laxus reiterated, "If you shoot one of those assholes and they're not asking to be shot, I'm going to put a bullet in you myself, Bickslow. I'm not ready to be piling up the Z's."

Bickslow swore. "If they shoot us—"

"Do your thing," Laxus said. "Not before, though."

"Not going to be doing much shooting if I'm full of holes, am I?"

"Just do what I told you and everything will be fine."

The truck groaned as Bickslow put it into park. Laxus checked his guns beneath his suit before he threw open the door and got out with what he considered to be his game face on. Apathetic. Cool. Unbothered by Precht's muscle flexing.

"Gentlemen." They were already opening the back of the truck and one of them was climbing in. He opened the first case and inspected the alcohol. "It's further back," Laxus told him when his face scrunched in confusion. He moved on. The delivery truck's door slammed closed and Laxus scowled at Bickslow as he joined them. So much for following orders. Bickslow wouldn't give up studying Precht's men to meet Laxus' eyes and Laxus couldn't tell him to get the hell back inside, it'd look suspicious.

A door at the back of the loading dock opened and Precht entered. "Laxus!" He held out his arms in greeting. "It's good to see you."

"Got the place all closed up?" Laxus asked.

Precht waved him off. "Just for tonight, I wanted to give you my undivided attention. Come, let them unload, it's what we pay them for, right?"

"Lead on."

Precht put his arm around Laxus' shoulder and pulled him out of the loading dock and into Grimoire's heart. They must have been downstairs and there must have been no windows because the interior was lit up but no light escaped into the outside world.

Laxus walked down white and black tiled floors and took in everything. It wasn't his first time in Grimoire Heart but he examined its walls with a new appreciation. It wasn't anything like _Halo_. It was subtler. It was the place for the average working-class man. For Laxus, whose grandfather had told him again and again to appreciate the working-class man, this was a breath of fresh air. Fernandez was alright as far as bosses went, but he'd never dream of dolling _Halo_ up like this and opening its doors to whoever could pay. Maybe it _was_ a better business model, who knew? Jellal was on top selling weapons just then but Laxus assumed that was a legacy given to him by his father. If that was taken away, what would he have? A restaurant that sold good food, sure, and a club downstairs with a decent bar and a poker room that sometimes had the highest stakes in all of Magnolia. That may have spelled _success_ , depending on how ambitious a person was, but it didn't spell _power_.

Precht cut right down a hallway and opened a door that led into a simplistic office. On the walls was pictures of him and Makarov when they were younger men, a picture of the girl he'd adopted and called daughter until she'd had enough of his quasi-abusive ways and ditched to pull in the dough on Jellal's time, and of course, there was a picture of Fairy Tail, back in the days when it did its own business and Makarov had partners and influence and a real foothold in this city. Laxus looked at Fairy Tail's heavy wooden doors. He'd opened them countless times as a kid, could remember every little groove of wood, how it felt beneath his palms. He felt a surprising ache for those days gone by.

Glass tinkling together brought him from memory lane. He turned away from the pictures and joined Precht at his desk where he poured dark liquid from a glass bottle. On the front was a drawing of twin dragons chasing each other's tails.

"Dragneel?" Laxus asked.

"Yes," Precht replied.

"The Dreg House burned," Laxus said.

"And then I built them a new one."

And there was Jellal's answer—it _was_ Precht buying Zeref's loyalty. Laxus stashed the information away and took the glass when it was offered to him. He tried a sip and winced.

"It's too young," Precht said before Laxus could comment. "It's been aging in oak barrels for only a few months but eventually, we'll have a nice product on our hands. Once you get over the initial punch, though, it's quite good. Zeref has a talent in the distillery." Precht sat. "I suppose you've thought about my offer?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And… It'll have to be a good deal you're selling, I'm taking a lot of risks," Laxus said. "And I can't just up and leave. Jellal'll have me buried."

Precht heaved a sigh. "I'd like to have you here."

"I just told you—"

"Yes. There's nothing wrong with my hearing." He tapped his fingers. "It could be beneficial to have a friend behind enemy lines."

"Yeah. It could."

"Could be, you betray me, though, and whisper in Jellal's ear."

"I'm an honest man."

Precht laughed. "I know that's a lie. If you remain there, what insurance do I have that you'll be mine?"

"Money buys everything," Laxus said. "Double my pay."

He expected to have to fight for every little foothold but Precht said, "I have a better idea. Name a price and I'll meet it."

"Any price?"

"Any at all."

"I want Fairy Tail back," Laxus said. "Buy back the land, rebuild the building, set up the refinery again and give it to me."

"Very well." The promise came too glibly. How could he promise to buy back land that Jellal was sitting on? It was presumptuous to _assume_ Jellal would give it up. But promise Precht did. "Anything else?"

Laxus tripled his pay and Precht tugged out a cheque book and scrawled the amount down. Laxus took it when it came his way and put the paper in his breast pocket. "You should know, Jellal knows you're buying Zeref out from under him. I told him you were after me, too."

"And yet he let you come here."

"He's not stupid. Treating him like he is will get you killed."

Precht took another sip of his drink. He let it rest on his tongue for a moment before swallowing. Laxus thought the swill was too fucking strong to do that but the old man didn't seem to mind. "Don't worry about me. You're the one playing the danger game. Why did you come here, Laxus? Honestly now."

Laxus took his time. "Jellal's just letting this war come to him. He's on top for a few years, gets in a few lucky strikes and he thinks it's not a lucky streak but what's owed to him. He's wrong. His old man's in town and won't say why but I know for a fact he's on the run from some asshole in Alverez. I also know that's not a ghost that's going to go quietly. People are dying, business is down and Jellal's all tangled up in this redhead. I'm done. I was done before we started this merry-go-round; joining him was never my choice and I'm tired of playing second-fiddle. In short, as long as Fairy Tail is about to be Dreyar owned again, Grimoire is looking good from where I'm standing."

"I never knew you were so sentimental."

"I'm not," Laxus said. "I'm pragmatic. When whoever is cutting off heads comes for you, too, I'll have some place to call my own, won't I?"

Precht laughed. "You get your bluntness from your father, not your grandfather, I'd say. Makarov is more political than that."

"I don't have time for word dances."

"To rule you must."

"You got me all wrong, Precht. I want to live comfortably, not rule," Laxus replied. "I just want to be my own boss. If that means I'm loyal to you until that day comes, well… so be it. At least it'll be my choice."

Precht leaned forward in his seat. "I can't tell you how happy I am to hear you say that. Saying something and saying it with meaning are two different things, though."

"You think I'm an actor?"

"I'd like to make sure you're not." Precht picked up the phone and dialed in a number. Laxus heard it ring. He was confused but he didn't interrupt when Precht said, "Bring him in."

Precht hung up and Laxus asked, "What's that?"

"Just a moment, you'll see. Take a seat, Laxus, please. You're making me uncomfortable." Precht poured himself another drink. Laxus finally joined him and killed his drink, making a play at not wincing; he preferred his bourbon at least three years old and this was just awful. They waited in silence for forty-three seconds—Laxus counted them down. He heard the commotion but still tensed when the office door burst open and disturbed the quiet.

Bickslow fell through onto the tile floor, a gun to his head and bullied down by the men that had been unloading the truck. He already had a split lip and he'd been stripped of his weapons.

Laxus asked calmly, "What is this?"

Precht took a gun out of his desk drawer and slid it over to Laxus. "Prove to me that you're sincere about our alliance, kill one of Mister Fernandez's rats."

"If I kill Bickslow, Jellal's going to take that as an act of war."

"Good," Precht said. "When you return to him bloodied and bruised, he won't suspect you of treason."

"When I…" Laxus trailed off as he gathered Precht's meaning. "I see."

Precht removed another gun from his drawer and tugged down the hammer. Though he didn't aim it at Laxus, his meaning was clear. "In Grimoire, there are no free rides. You're to be my messenger, Laxus, and this is the message I want to send. What are you going to do?"

Laxus let his lungs decompress before he picked up the gun and aimed. He didn't meet Bickslow's eyes when he pulled the trigger, he watched him fall, though. He didn't scream, Bickslow who always fought for everything, who was crazy and candid and probably the most loyal second Laxus had ever had, went down with a hole in his head and didn't make a sound.

Laxus kept his eyes locked with Precht's as his men gathered Bickslow up. Precht said, "Take his body to Monnet's point. With any luck, he'll sink and the Coppers won't spot him."

The door opened again and Kane walked through, to Laxus' disgust. "This is who you're going to get to tune me up?"

"He has a bone to pick," Precht said. "Stand, Laxus. It's more dignified that way."

Laxus chewed his cheek hard, thinking about money and loyalty and what it meant to have one of his best friends lying with a hole in his head, bleeding out his brains on Precht's floor. It was much, much too late to go back now. He got to his feet; Kane didn't hold back. His right hook was as brutal as Laxus imagined. He stumbled and grabbed the desk to keep himself from falling. He was hit again and was jarred into the table hard enough that Zeref's bottle of bourbon spilled. Laxus saw stars and his ears rung so badly, he barely heard Precht say, "Welcome to Grimoire Heart."


	11. Chapter 11

No one treated him like Arum's Tavern did. Jellal waited to feel an undoubtable _satisfaction_ that came from being waited on with such attention in front of Erza. She didn't seem like the kind of girl to really care about stuff like that, though, unimpressed when the waiters were at his beck and call. She leaned over the table and smiled, however, though it was never about what Jellal _expected_ it to be about. He'd say something unintentionally funny and lips drenched in scarlet colour would twitch and a laugh full of life would ring out, not delicate like other girls, but _heartfelt._ He knew he had it bad for Erza, he'd had his eye set on her since the first moment he saw her, but just then he thought it could be a little worse than he realized. And he wasn't at all sure how he felt about it.

Her leg brushed his beneath the table and stayed there and he felt stupid for smiling so widely but he did. Erza had left her shyness in the Corvette and brought out the sure-footed dame from months ago, the one that had demanded he race like a bat out of hell through the city. She sipped her water and left lipstick marks on the glass's rim and Jellal wished furiously that he was the glass.

"What is it?" she asked.

Jellal realized he was staring. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and folded it over his finished plate. "Did you want to share a dessert?"

Erza checked the watch on her wrist—a huge contraption that was well enough scratched that he figured that she loved it and wore it almost every day. "It's almost eight-thirty."

"So?"

"So, I'm supposed to start my shift at nine."

Jellal put his elbows on the table and leaned in. "You're out for dinner with the boss."

She said a simple, "So?"

Of course _so._ "You're right, it's not that impressive," he agreed flippantly. "I do have a sweet tooth, though, Erza, and the owner, Arum, makes sure that Arum's Tavern has the best cakes." He had her hook, line, and sinker as soon as he said cake.

"Maybe we'll be quick."

Jellal put in their order with the tuxedo-wearing waiter and then sat back in his seat and let the quiet noise of Arum's coax him into a state of relaxation. It was full to capacity with people of import, the mayor, some councilmen, judicial officials, but it was never overcrowded. Arum never let it get that way. What he lacked in customers he made up in extravagant prices. It cost a small fortune to eat there but it all added to the atmosphere. Jellal could appreciate the mentality, it was the same way in which he ran _Halo_.

"It's in a class of its own, isn't it?" Erza asked, looking at their gold-trimmed surroundings like she was reading his mind.

"It's over the top and silly people pay for it," Jellal said.

She quirked her brow. "We're here."

He was plain. "I wanted to impress you." A bit of colour came to her skin and he knew that her calm demeanor was a glamour; she was still a little off balance and that was okay, it made up for the way he felt, too. "Did it work?"

Erza was just as plain. "It's nice, but it doesn't give me a better impression of you."

"Changing your view of me was never the goal, I like the impression you've already drawn."

"Then you're a foolish man." There was laughter in her eyes and teasing in her voice.

Jellal shrugged. "You think I'm a cad. You think I'm the biggest, baddest bad in the city. There are far worse things."

Erza's nose scrunched up. "Are there?"

"Probably not but just think, you won't be flabbergasted when all of your suspicions are confirmed."

"You think I'm of a suspicious nature?" Erza queried.

"I know you are, former Constable Scarlet." The title still made her glow. Jellal catalogued the quirk as he catalogued _everything._ He rested his leg more completely against hers; Erza still didn't pull away. Jellal swirled his wineglass, looking between the dark red liquid and the fall of Erza's hair over her shoulder. It was curled again and he knew that in the spots where it wasn't sprayed with hairspray, it would feel like silk.

"You're staring again."

He was. Jellal found her eyes. "How is Constable Fullbuster taking to your new position?" He hadn't _meant_ to pry.

She barely faltered. "Gray's opinion doesn't matter."

"No?"

Erza shook her head and her hair gleamed like rubies. "I've decided I'm not going to see him anymore."

Jellal wasn't sure if she was lying or not. "Why's that?"

Her eyes fell to the table. "I just haven't been thinking about him much lately, I suppose."

"Too busy thinking about someone else?"

She wouldn't meet his eyes. "I've been preoccupied."

Jellal was equal parts incredulous and interested. He touched her chin and tipped her face up. Her eyes were like Bambi's and her mouth made him think he'd never wanted to kiss anyone as much as he wanted to kiss her _just then_. "Will you stay after your shift?"

"Yes," she said and Jellal's mouth wouldn't stay flat. He felt like he won the jackpot, even if he suspected that it was rigged.

Their waiter showed and Jellal reluctantly took his hand away from Erza. Their dessert was dropped between them, the metal lid left on, which was unusual. "Bon appétit," the waiter said before scurrying away. Erza tried to take the lid off. Jellal clapped his hand down on the metal cover and said, "Let me." She backed away so he carefully tipped the lid up his way and was glad for all the secrecy he used. What would Erza do if she were to see the severed head of Sawyer resting on the plate, his congealing blood slowly, slowly leaking toward the ledge? Perhaps she'd waste all the dinner she'd just eaten. She wouldn't have calmly put the lid down and smile.

"This isn't the right thing."

"It's not?"

"On the menu, it said strawberry cake, didn't it? This is the mousse." He rose and took the plate with him. Erza opened her mouth to say something but Jellal was already walking away. He didn't balance very well and some blood leaked over the edge of the plate and made his hands sticky; when it fell on the floor, though, it was hidden by the dark carpet.

People looked at him when he came through the 'Staff Only' entrance into a kitchen bustling with life. Despite that, no one called his name or asked him to return to his table. This was Arum's busiest hour yet the white tiled walls and floors were tidy and free of stains and the chefs were all in pristine white uniforms, save for a few flecks of food here and there. Wait staff that mingled inside waited patiently by the stainless steel hot table for the sous-chef and their cooks to put their plated dinners up. Jellal looked for his waiter but didn't see him in the throng.

"Sir?"

Finally, someone acknowledged that he wasn't where he was supposed to be. Jellal asked the sous-chef, "Where is Arum?"

"Mister Deschamps is busy at the moment—"

Jellal was irritable enough to use the magic he almost never called upon. He held off last-minute. There was no need to cause a mass panic. A small one would do. He freed one of his hands and pulled his revolver out of his pocket so he could aim it at Sous-Chef Malcom. Around the muzzle, he asked again, "Where is Arum?"

Jellal got his answer immediately. "In his office."

"Thank you. Take me."

"Yes, Sir." The man dropped his tongs and left the steak he was working on to lead the way. Jellal followed with the gun at his side, around the hot table, down a corridor lined with large, walk-in freezers and fridges, past a pastry making section and into the owner's office.

Arum sat at a small desk with a cigarette squeezed between his fingers. He looked pale. Green, actually, which really looked _guilty_. Behind his head were monuments to all of his accomplishments, awards, diplomas, newspaper clippings claiming _Magnolia's finest food!_ And in front of him was a pile of papers.

"Mister Fernandez." Jellal closed the door on a relieved looking Malcom and dropped his plate unceremoniously to Arum's desk. Blood spilled all over important documents and Arum looked at the mess with horror.

Jellal sat himself down in the chair opposite of Arum and crossed his legs. "Look. Go ahead." Arum just stared. Jellal aimed his gun and flicked down the hammer. "Now, please."

Arum pulled up the metal lid and started to hyperventilate. Sawyer stared up at the ceiling, his eyes rolled into the back of his head. The cut on his throat was tidy. "Mister Fernandez—"

"The only thing I want to hear from you is _who_ delivered this head and told you to send it to my table."

Arum was a stupid sort; he begged, "Mister Fernandez, I don't know—"

Jellal stood and pushed the gun into Arum's forehead between his eyes. "You're _lying_. Someone wanted this brought to my table, now tell me _who_. If you say you weren't involved, I'm going to use this gun and I'm going to paint your office."

Arum shook violently, his eyes narrowed on the rod of metal before spilling, "I don't know his name. I've never seen him before."

Jellal dug his gun in harder and Arum rushed to say, "But I can describe him."

"Do that."

"He was tall. Long, dark hair. He—he spoke strangely."

Jellal's adrenaline spiked, as did his fury. "That's all I need, Arum."

"It is?"

"Yes, thank you." He brought the gun a few inches away.

Arum blinked dumbly. "I never would have sent it to your table, Mister Fernandez, if he didn't threaten me. It won't happen again. Next time, I'll tell them no."

"You won't."

"Really—"

Jellal pulled the trigger and Arum stopped talking. "Really, you won't," he said. Arum's only answer was to drip red stuff on his pants. "I will miss your desserts. Maybe someone else will pick up the mantle, though?"

He used Arum's tie to clean the back-splash off his pistol and washed his hands in the sink in the pastry area, the water running red before it ran clear. When he looked away from the stainless steel, Malcom was watching from the hallway between Arum's office and the kitchen. Jellal dried his hands with a white towel left on the pastry prep table and dried quickly. He traded that out for a piece of paper and a pencil. He scrawled down a number he knew off by heart and handed the paper to Malcom. "Call this number and tell them there's a bit of a mess to clean up in Arum's, will you?"

The man took the paper stiltedly. Jellal clapped his shoulder on the way by, not doubting for a moment that his wishes would be granted. "Thank you."

Eyes watched him through the kitchen but in the dining room, everything seemed to be business as usual, the concrete walls and the general noise of the restaurant covering all of Jellal's sins. He didn't bother sitting when he reached Erza. "They're out of strawberry cake. Did you want anything else or should we go?"

Erza checked her watch. "Maybe we should just go."

Jellal offered her his hand and after she stood, he wrapped his arm around her waist and led her outside.

* * *

As the driver—self-designated because Bacchus kept taking hits off a flask when he thought Gray wasn't looking—Gray didn't have as much time to look around as Bacchus, so he couldn't confirm either way when Bacchus looked in the windows of Arum's Tavern as they rolled past and saw Jellal Fernandez leading Erza out by the hip. He knew, though. He saw the Corvette and that was all the confirmation he needed. He got hot, and then he got cold. He never changed his speed, though, and considered that a victory.

"That's fine, eh?"

"What?" There was more tension than he planned in his voice.

"I was just thinking, if my lady was having dinner with one Mister Fernandez, I wouldn't be telling people it was fine."

"Fuck off, Groh." It was easy to see how he pushed level-headed Jura into violence.

"There's no shame in it. I had a lass once who fucked my brother. Not my real brother," Bacchus said. "But he may as well have been blood."

"Save the allegories," Gray said.

"It's a good story," Bacchus replied. "So I came home early from my beat because some scud I was chasing stopped running and punched me in the face good enough I was seeing stars. I get in my house and hear this weird fucking noise—"

"What street are we going to again?"

"Arabella." He continued without missing a beat; he wouldn't be distracted. "So I get my sidearm, thinking I got an intruder. Great end to a great day. Up the stairs I go—" Gray took a corner too fast. Bacchus held onto the door and the flask in the breast pocket of his coat but was he deterred? "When I opened the bedroom up, my eyes know I don't like what I see before my brain does. I pulled the trigger without even thinking." He cackled.

"You shot him?" Gray squawked despite himself.

Bacchus waved him off. "In the ass. He was fine. Didn't even press charges. Dropped the girl, kept my buddy and here we are."

"You're crazy."

"Maybe. I have no headaches, though."

Gray shook his head and pulled down Arabella. Bacchus said, "It's the little place above the smoke shop; park around back and out of the lights, they don't like it when the heat shows up."

There was a small space between two buildings where Gray could pull the car through. It was tight, only a few inches remained on either side of the mirrors, and he was glad when the ancient black-stained brick widened into a back parking lot. There was a light near its end and a spot up close to the building where its glow didn't reach. Gray nosed the Tudor up there and put it mostly beneath a stretching length of maple branch and into a healthy bundle of wild grapevine. The paint scratched, not that he cared, it was probably better for it.

"Lose the jacket and the gun," Bacchus said quietly.

"Pardon?"

"Take them off, Fullbuster. If you want answers, don't argue." Bacchus unbuttoned his marked police issue coat as he spoke and stripped off his shoulder holster, too. Gray did the same after a moment. He had an extra gun on his ankle, he'd started carrying it all the time after his run-in with the Dragon's Den and all that garbage happened with Lucy, but it would be harder to get to if he needed it, and who was to say that he'd be fast enough? He did want answers, though, and he wanted to keep moving because if he stood still, he'd think about that white Corvette and imagine what Erza was wearing when Jellal brought her to that swank place. And what they were doing now that they were leaving.

His jacket came off in jerky movements. His guns, too. The metal hit together where it wasn't protected by leather and he practically threw them onto the floor on the driver's side. He dumped his jacket over them so no one peeked into the window and thought to break in and take them and then he tucked his white collared shirt into his dark pants. When he was as together as he thought he could possibly be, both he and Bacchus exited through the driver's door because he was parked too close to the wall to get out on the other side.

Bacchus took to the alley with sure steps, passing by windows where men looked out with keen eyes, and mounted a rusted metal set of stairs at the front of the building that arced sharply skyward and whined with every footfall. Gray held the railing tight and watched the ground get smaller and smaller beneath his feet. He didn't have a fear of heights, it was falling that got him, and if he were to fall, he was sure that with the way his night was going, he'd fall off this shitty staircase and break his neck in this dirty, nondescript alley.

The top of the staircase came and none of Gray's feet went through the metal. He waited for Bacchus to rap his knuckles against the thin wooden door. The sound carried many times over again in the narrow alley before escaping toward the nighttime sky.

Moments passed; finally, the door opened and Gray felt a deep sigh well in his chest. He put a cap on it and smiled tightly at Meredy bathed in the glow of a red and black light. Her expression inverted; the smile she'd been cultivating withered as soon as she saw Gray. "Sorry! Full to capacity." She twitched her chin over her shoulder where behind her, a small party waged, two women scantily dressed and two men equally unclothed engaged in a lighthearted conversation around a hand of cards. "Don't come back later." She started to close the door.

"Wait." Gray grabbed the door from her and she looked like she was going to hit him. Bacchus took Gray's shoulder and pulled him back.

"Meredy, baby, I know you got people in there but can we come in for a few?"

"I'm busy," she said again over the sound of a high-pitched laugh. Gray looked toward the table despite himself and saw one of the girls start to undo the back of her white bra. He fixed his eyes back on Meredy and kept them there.

"Come on," Bacchus wheedled. "Won't our favourite girl come through for us? We just need a minute."

"I believe I'm _your_ favourite, Bacchus, but your friend here said some nasty things to me last time we saw each other," Meredy said stubbornly.

Gray couldn't remember exactly what it was he said but he wasn't the least bit sorry and hoped that it was good and offensive. "I need you in my life, Meredy. You give me something to do."

"You mean you need to try to ruin my night?" Meredy asked.

"Prostitution is—"

Bacchus elbowed Gray hard in the ribs. "We're not here about that, right, partner?"

"Right," Gray hesitated in saying.

Meredy was as skeptical as she was when she opened the door. Bacchus said, "Please, Meredy, just bring us in for a minute. We'll talk in private and then we'll get out of here."

Her delicate nose scrunched up but she did step back. "Hurry up, I have guests to entertain."

They seemed to be doing a fine job all on their own. One of the men lost his shirt and his pants. Gray took his eyes off of them and stepped into Meredy's small apartment. It was mostly dark and smelled of incents and cigarette smoke. Paintings hung on the wall, bright and colourful things that caught Gray's eye and made him slow up. One was of particular interest, raven's wing black, sky blue, the colours all swirled together into something almost unrecognizable but it spoke to him in a way he didn't quite understand.

"You like what you see, Constable?" Meredy asked in his ear.

"You're talented," Gray grudgingly admitted.

"Hundred bucks, it's yours."

"That's steep."

She shrugged and he felt her shoulder dig into his back, she was standing so close. "Art doesn't pay the bills."

"I'll think about it."

"You do that." She twitched on down a short and dark hallway to a bedroom. When she threw open the door, the smell of smoke was thicker. There was a dresser, a gilded and blue Chippendale sofa, a bed and underthings on almost every surface. Meredy didn't care as much as Gray did. Bacchus was brazen enough to grab a frilly black bra and swirl it around.

"I haven't seen this one yet."

"And you won't, either, if you show up to my home with this dolt when I have people over." She dropped herself gracefully onto the sofa where she lounged in her pink corset and high-waisted jean shorts, a wasp waiting in a flower. "What do you want?"

Bacchus went to her side and sat on the edge of the sofa. "We've been assigned the dock's case."

"That murder?"

" _Those_ murders," Gray said. "They're all connected. It's the same killer."

"Sure it is." Meredy reached over her head and snagged a piece of gum out of a pack on her dresser. She popped it into her mouth and Gray discovered that she was a loud chewer and a bubble blower. "What about it?"

"Docks are by where you work."

"I work _everywhere,_ Constable," Meredy said. "Including _Halo_ when Mister Buchannan allows it. _So_ _what_?"

"So, you know something," Gray pressed.

" _That's_ a stretch."

"Anything you've got, Meredy. We have nothing," Bacchus said.

Just a body, no head, and it even looked like the body had been moved from the murder site. The victim was male this time and aside from a watch and an unmarked gun found on the body, Bacchus was right, they had absolutely no clues. They didn't even know which gang he belonged to.

"What do I get for spilling the beans?" Meredy asked, ever the conniver.

"What do you want?" Bacchus said.

"I want immunity," she replied. "Anytime you see me on the street, look the other way. That goes for all your little friends in uniform, too."

"We can't promise you immunity," Gray butted in.

"Then I can't tell you what I know," she said simply.

"Meredy—"

"What, Constable?" she challenged. "What are you going to do?"

"Execute some of those warrants with your name on them," Bacchus threatened. "They're sitting on my desk."

"I'll go to jail for a few months for keeping my mouth shut. There are worse things."

"Please, Meredy."

"No."

Gray took in a breath. "I'll talk to the Chief if you can promise us information."

"Talk to him?" Gray looked at her dryly and Meredy said, "I want to hear you say it, Constable. I've been duped too many times."

"I'll talk to him about your immunity, and I'll make a good case. I swear it. And if he doesn't bite…"

"Then?"

"Then I promise _I'll_ at least look the other way."

"Done." Meredy spat on her palm and held out her hand for shaking.

Gray looked at the outstretched limb and held off. "I need good information, though. Pertinent."

"Pertinent," Meredy confirmed. "You'll know everything I know regarding our headless horseman."

"We have a deal then."

She picked up his hand for him and shook vigorously with a wide and mischievous smile on her mouth. "One of Buchannan's girls said they saw the whole thing. Killer was welding a sword, if you can believe it."

"A sword?"

"That's what I said. The killed was one of Jellal's boys, snatched when they were coming out of Lucky, their favourite bar. Their head was lopped off right there in the alley, or so the story goes."

Gray's mouth tasted sour. "Do you know the guy's name?"

"Nope. I _do_ know that this is the first time Jellal's been hit, though."

"This has been going on for weeks," Gray considered. "Why only attack Jellal now when everyone else has been on the chopping block?"

"I heard that his daddy's back in town. Maybe he's looking to cause some stir up in _Halo_?" Meredy dropped innocently.

"Things aren't going well for Jellal there?"

She shrugged. "I don't know; it's been a little while since I've gone for a visit but people are whispering that Fernandez Senior is getting called _Mister_ before Jellal."

Interesting. "What would you say to going for out tonight? Ask some questions for us?" Gray knew he was pressing his luck well before he finished speaking. Meredy shook her head.

"Not a chance."

"Not even for a few bills?"

"You don't have the kind of cash I'd need to risk my neck," she said bluntly.

"It was worth a try."

"I suppose. Now. If you don't mind, I really am entertaining." Meredy stood. "You can come by tomorrow with those immunity papers."

"If I can get them," Gray reiterated.

"Try really, really hard, Gray, it'll be good for your shitty karma," she said with a sublime smile and opened the bedroom door.

Things had gotten a little more heated in the living room, it seemed that both women and one man was without clothes and no one seemed put out by it. There was a lot of touching and a lot of laughing that petered away to a lot of kissing. Gray hurried out and down the stairs and got to the Tudor well before Bacchus.

"Shy, Fullbuster?" Bacchus teased as he ambled over.

"Just _busy_ ," Gray corrected. "And trying to stay on task." If he had to enter his least favourite place, he wanted it to be with his head in the game. "We should go by that alley, too."

"Unlucky night for you, huh, having to go see the lion at your girl's door?"

"Can it."

"Yes, Sir." Bacchus grinned widely as he opened the driver's side door and climbed into the Tudor. Gray got in after him, armed himself once more, and got underway. It took five minutes to get across town and during that time, Bacchus filled the car with talk. It wasn't anything Gray _wanted_ to hear. Mostly, Bacchus asked him if he saw the yellow underwear on Meredy's bed, and he followed that up with a rank story about them, and the purple bra that was hanging on the back of the chair. He poured into Gray's ears another story that involved too many hands and too many holes and a lot of lube.

"And then there're the things she keeps in her drawers," Bacchus said. "Toys, Fullbuster. Fuck. And she's got this spell. She puts it on you and anything she feels, you feel too. It sounds fucking weird but boy, don't smash it until you've smashed it, you know?"

Gray was glad to pull into _Halo's_ overflowing lot. Seeing the white Corvette made him feel sick but some things couldn't be helped.

The lady at the concierge stand seemed to know before he stepped in through _Halo's_ doors that he was the law. She had the phone picked up and hung up again by the time Gray got to the desk's live edge. She didn't give him a chance to speak. "Mister Fernandez will see you in his office. This way." She left the desk and led Gray and Bacchus through _Halo's_ interior.

Men and women at their tables looked at them. They stood out, and not because of their guns, Gray thought, it was likely these people saw more than their fair share come through here, but because of their garb. Used to be, he thought his uniform looked respectable. Now, he felt like a ragamuffin, self-conscious about his five o'clock shadow and his askew tie amongst other things. Why weren't his shoes polished? Why did his coat have lint on it?

Through a door marked _Manager_ was a humble room with an average-sized desk strewn with papers. Behind that was a door that Gray thought to be a closet but the woman produced a key and inserted it in a lock and the door opened into a stairwell, of all things. She stepped inside; Gray hurried after her before she could get too far out of sight.

Darkness closed around him for a full moment once Bacchus entered and closed the door. Then lights ignited in the floor, small ones that lined a set of stairs. The train started moving again. Gray counted thirteen steps. On flat floor, he counted another five. The woman went left then, through yet another door that she opened with a key, and deposited Gray and Bacchus into a red and gold and black office. There was the desk Gray thought Jellal would have, huge and elaborately carved, and there was the man himself, sitting back in an ornate armchair behind that desk, his feet up on the desk's surface.

"Gentlemen. You're the first badges I've invited into my personal space. Usually, you're here more forcefully."

Gray's sarcasm made another visit. "What an honour."

"I thought so." The concierge left and Jellal sat up. "What can I do for you? I'm rather busy, training a new staff member."

"Looks it."

Jellal's smile didn't reach his eyes. "If you came here just to contradict everything I say then I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Gray tucked away his pride. "We're here because a body showed up by the docks. Someone said it might have been one of your guys."

Jellal's brow went up. "Did they?"

"Yeah. He's not got a head, though, so the ID's been a little tough. Notice anyone not coming in for work?" Gray prodded.

"Now that you mention it, Sawyer hasn't been in and he hasn't rung. You don't think it could be him, do you?"

Jellal's fake concern was grating. "Do you know of anyone that might want to do him harm?"

"Him? No. I imagine if his head was cut off and left somewhere for someone to find, it would be his patriarch that was the target of ill intent. Speaking hypothetically, of course."

"Of course," Gray said. "Should I get a pen for your long list of those that might want to do _you_ harm?"

"I'm king in this town, Constable. Everyone loves me to my face and spits at my back. Jealousy, I suspect."

It was Jellal's smile Gray hated, he decided. "What can you tell me about your father, Mister Fernandez?"

"My father?" Jellal repeated. "That's a strange question."

"Strange times. Entertain me."

"He's a retired businessman."

"And what was his business?"

"Restaurant owning," Jellal said. "Just like me. We Fernandez like to keep it in the family."

Gray held back his scoff. "I'm sure he does just as well as you do, too."

"He was doing better for a while there, but, as I said, he's retired now."

"And here in Magnolia to interfere in your business?" Gray suggested.

"Parents," Jellal said with a dead laugh. "If they're not meddling, they're dead."

"Our source is suggesting that things might not be made in the shade for you, Mister Fernandez," Bacchus pressed. "They say since your father got into town, your men have been treating you a little differently. Less respectfully."

"Is there a question in that statement?"

Gray pulled out his blunt card. "What my partner means to ask is, is your father orchestrating these killings to try to weaken your defences?"

Jellal looked bemused. "Decapitation is rough work for a restaurant owner."

"I've heard the restaurant business is really going down hill lately."

A door opened somewhere down a narrow hall behind Jellal's desk. Jellal sat upright and rolled his eyes. "These are ridiculous accusations. Unless you have some kind of evidence to back up your claims, I must ask that you gentlemen leave."

"We'd like to speak to your father first," Gray said.

"Unfortunately, he's not in. Perhaps when he returns, I'll ask him to take a visit to the Constabulary?"

"Would you?" Bacchus said and got out a notepad to scrawl down his information. He said other things that Gray didn't hear, he was looking at Erza coming out behind Jellal, dressed to impress in a skirt suit, and couldn't focus on anything else. She did look nice. Going out for _dinner_ nice. And she looked _guilty._ He thought his gut was full of lead before but suspecting that she was out with Fernandez and getting _proof_ on top of that expression on her face, were different things, he quickly learned.

The first feeling that came to him was shame. Though _why_ shame, he didn't know. It wasn't _him_ sneaking around, after all. Next was anger.

"Got any popcorn? This is going to be a show." Bacchus' voice was distant.

Jellal said something. Bacchus replied. Erza said, "Gray," and bit her lip.

All at once, all he could think about was the alcohol he tasted on Erza's breath last night and her wet hair and her wet bathing suit and the hesitant way she'd kissed him, and then the rough way she'd fucked him.

Gray got cold and hot all at once and he thought he was going to be sick. The wave rolled over him and he was okay and would be if he left _now_. "Excuse me," he wrung out and backed out as gracefully as he could.

The walk back up the stairs and out of the restaurant was done quickly; Gray didn't even remember faces or places whirling past. One minute he was in Jellal's office, the next he was standing at the Tudor, trying to figure out how to open the door.

With a key, because it was locked. He got his keys out. Someone took them from his hand.

"I got this," Bacchus said, and pushed Gray toward the passenger's door. He considered fighting, but honestly, if he drove like he walked, he wasn't sure they'd get to where they were going.

* * *

From where Jellal was standing, it looked like Erza was hyperventilating. She worked in shallow breaths. In and out, in and out.

"Do you want to go home?" Jellal asked gently.

Erza took in another shallow breath. "I'm okay."

"You don't look like you're okay." He took her by the arms to get her attention and looked into her eyes. "Erza, it's fine if you want to leave, I'll find someone else—"

"I'm okay," she said more firmly. "I was just surprised. I wasn't expecting to see him here, and I hadn't intended on him _accidently_ finding out that I took the job you offered. I wanted to sit down and talk to him but there's just been no time. He's been on this case, and I've been working and—"

"Did you want to sit?"

She took in another breath. This one got a little bit deeper. The next after that was less constricted as well. "No. No, thank you. I'd like to start my shift now."

"If you're distracted—"

"Not distracted." Erza said. "Please. I'd like shoulder holster you promised."

Right. Jellal released her and pulled the soft leather from the desk drawer he'd dumped it in when Minerva called to tell him he had guests. Erza removed her jacket and revealed the plum button up shirt she wore beneath.

She was too distraught for any of it to be erotic but he still felt flushed when he helped her put the holster on. She lifted her hair and it smelled good; her skin was warm beneath his fingers, a little damp with sweat. He let his hands slide down her back when he was done to prolong their contact and Erza didn't scold him. He did the scolding for her, he was a bad man. A bad man with guns to arm the innocent. He took a pistol from his desk and jammed it nose-down into the holster for her, completing the look.

He took a step back to appreciate her as she put on her jacket and took the liberty of putting her hat on her head for her, too. Erza smiled tightly. It loosened up a little, became more natural when he said, "You look good." He imagined that's how she smiled when she put on her Constable's uniform.

"You think so?"

"A proper Mafioso."

"I'm not trying to be a Mafioso," she rebutted. "I only want to work for one."

"I own a restaurant, that's all."

The last of her sadness got put _somewhere_ , tucked in some tidy box that she'd pull out and mourn over later. For now, she embraced her role. "You're too rich for _that's all_."

"I bet you're waiting for me to slip."

"Are you very clumsy?"

"Not usually." He twirled one of her locks of hair around his finger. "But if I was?"

"Any dirt I got on you here wouldn't get me my Constable uniform back."

"No, it wouldn't."

"Then why would I make their lives easier?"

"Valor. That insufferable sense of right and wrong you have, to name a few reasons."

"You say that like those are bad things."

Jellal pushed her, needing to know if she was _actually_ going to be okay in the poker room, and got more serious. "I know the MPD like I know the men running it. They would sell you some hopped up bull to get what they want. They might even give you your job back, but only because they think you're only good for one thing and when they got that out of you, they'd cast you aside until the next time they wanted you to do something else none of the men could."

As with the last time they talked about this, he struck a nerve and he struck it hard; her brows dented and her fingers clenched. Jellal waited for a geyser. All he got was, "I'd like to start my shift now," and Erza's back as she went for the door. Upon opening it, Laxus practically fell through, a bloody lump.

"Fuck." Erza grabbed him around the middle and held him with surprising grace, Jellal knew how heavy Laxus was.

"On the couch, please."

Erza looked at him like he was short a few screws. "He needs a hospital."

"Couch," Jellal said again but Erza was already bullying Laxus back out the way he'd stumbled in. "Erza," Jellal said louder just as Laxus grabbed the doorframe and muttered something that would have been, 'No hospitals,' if his face wasn't so torn up.

"You'll thank me." She put her shoulder into his chest and started pushing him out.

"Erza," Jellal said and Laxus echoed his sentiments.

"He needs a doctor!"

"I just need to sit down," Laxus said with more strength.

"Couch, please," Jellal tried one more time.

"You're both stupid." Erza's frustration was palpable but she turned back around and came back his way. Jellal met her halfway and took Laxus' other side and together, they brought him back to the couch. When it was time, Laxus fell to the cushions without grace and sat there, breathing wetly.

Erza asked, "Who did this to you and why?"

Jellal didn't think Laxus would answer any of her questions ever but he said, "Let me worry about it, Erza. You're needed in the poker room."

"How can you say that? One of your own has been attacked, stupid poker can wait."

He smiled and it was the first time it was forced for Erza. "There is a lot of money riding on those stupid poker games. I need you to watch the room for me, Erza. I don't want anyone getting shot in _Halo_ tonight. Cops are bad for business."

"Jellal—"

"Go or I'll have to find someone else to take your place."

"You'd fire me?"

"Yes."

She stood defiantly for another moment and then the weight of his words hit her and realization came over her like a shroud. She got angry, then uncertain, and then the two melded together with resolve and she whirled on her heel. The door slammed behind her. Jellal hoped she took that fury with her to the poker room; bouncers were supposed to be surly.

Laxus took in a noisy breath and brought Jellal's attention back around. "It went well I see?"

Laxus grunted vaguely, the sound thick. Jellal sighed and picked up the phone on his coffee table. He held the gleaming receiver to his ear and dialed in the number upstairs. When it was answered, he didn't waste time on niceties. "Did Gajeel make it back with Wendy?"

"His car just pulled in," Minerva said on the other end.

"Send them down."

Laxus' words were garbled around his fat lip and swollen and broken nose but Jellal understood him well enough. "Zeref's not going to like that you tossed one of his safe houses and then poached Wendy."

"Then he's going to like it even less when I keep her."

"Keep?"

"You heard me."

Laxus laughed without humor. "This is going to cause clap back from Grimoire."

"We were right then? Precht did make the offer?"

"Yeah."

"Perfect."

"People are going to get killed," Laxus said.

"People are already dead," retorted Jellal. "Sawyer made it onto my dessert plate tonight while I was on a date and I'm not fucking okay with that."

"Sawyer's dead?"

"His head was cut off," Jellal said irritably. "It was fine when everyone else's bodies were turning up in the streets but I don't get fucked with."

"That's why Precht thinks you're an easy target. Hubris."

"I know my own faults."

"But you never change them."

Jellal discovered he wanted to hit Laxus. He held off. "Is that what you said to Precht to make yourself seem genuine?"

"No," Laxus said just as blandly, "I told Precht I wanted Fairy Tail back then he told me to shoot Bickslow."

"Did you?"

"He told me Fairy Tail was mine, so what else could I do?"

"He makes promises he can't keep, that land is mine and I'd never give it up."

"Of course he does. He paid me out, though, then got Kane to tune me up. Told me to tell you this was your message of war. And here I am."

Jellal smacked his shoulder. "You did good. We'll get Wendy to fix you up; you'll be right as rain soon enough."

"If she won't do it?"

"Then she's not too useful, is she? You know my philosophy on useless people."

Laxus laid his head back on the couch's backrest so he was looking at the ceiling. "Can we afford to do her in? Healers are hard to come by."

"They're rare," Jellal agreed. "But Chelia's been contracting for whoever pays. I'm sure she won't be hard to track down, if needed." Jellal picked a tumbler off the table and poured Laxus a couple fingers of scotch, then himself.

Laxus took his drink. "Sometimes, I think you're a little fucking kooky."

"Risk-reward, Laxus. Risk-reward."

"You say that but it looks a lot like risk. No reward."

"What kind of attitude is that?"

Laxus said, "A shitty one but I want to know what we're _doing,_ Jellal, what the fuck is the game plan? People are making their moves and we're just _sitting_ here."

"I'm not just sitting here. I'm going to finish my drink, I'm going to wait for Erza to finish her shift, then I'm going to have a very nice, relaxing evening and wait for the shit to hit the fan." Jellal sipped his drink under the weight of Laxus' incredulous and disgusted stare and let the alcohol rest on his tongue for long enough that it burned.


	12. Chapter 12

Laxus was midway between consciousness and oblivion with the faint taste of whisky on his tongue when Jellal's office door opened. The pen that had been scratching over paper from Jellal's desk stopped and Jellal's voice drew Laxus more completely into the world.

"Wendy. How nice to see you."

"The feeling isn't mutual." Her bold words didn't match her tenor, her voice was shaking.

"Did you scare her, Gajeel?" Jellal asked.

"Never laid a hand on her," Gajeel said roughly.

"You made a cage and the locked me in it while you destroyed our place on Danver," Wendy said sharply.

"Is that true?"

"She kept trying to give me the slip."

"Really? And after Zeref said we could borrow you," Jellal drawled.

"This isn't what he had in mind," Wendy said. "As soon as he knows what you've done—"

"Then what?" Jellal put on his best dangerous voice.

Eileen's magic had long since left him but Laxus didn't need it to listen to Wendy's breathing elevate. "He'll retaliate."

"It'll be good to see some spark in him," Jellal addressed Gajeel. "You're bleeding, what happened?"

"Sting shot me," Gajeel grunted.

Jellal affirmed, "It was a good choice sending you." Gajeel who, like Laxus, used to be one of Zeref's goons, who could harden his body with steel at a thought. Despite being Zeref's a lifetime ago, Laxus never wondered about Gajeel's loyalty and he didn't suspect Jellal did, either. Gajeel was simple. He wanted to do his job and then he wanted to be left alone to watch his shows with his girl, things like _Dragnet_ and _M Squad_ and other trash. _Why_ he watched cop shows, Laxus never cared to ask, he just knew it, like he knew that Jellal every morning before doing inventory got ready to the sounds of Elmer Fudd singing,

 _Gold is where you find it and when I find that stuff, I'll dig and dig and dig and dig. I'll never get enough. I tramp the prairies and the plains. I trudge each weary mile. I'll tramp and trudge and trudge and tramp Until I make my pile!_

This man who schemed and picked apart Wendy's and Gajeel's words was not the same man he was before his day began. As soon as the last knot in his tie was made, Jellal turned off the TV and became someone new. Someone cold. "That's all, Gajeel. Thank you."

"If they come looking for her?"

"They will. Definitely. Take some men and cut them off before they get here, blood and bullets are bad for business."

"I thought you wanted to be allies with Zeref?" Gajeel asked.

"I do. Zeref doesn't have many men, nor does he have as much firepower as we do. I very much doubt he'll want to entertain a shootout in the street. He'll back off and when he does, I want you to invite him back here for a visit. Tomorrow morning, say, when he's had time to cool down."

The rigmarole was time consuming and tedious and all about power.

"Clear?"

"Yeah." Gajeel addressed Wendy. "Like I said, be good and you stay alive. Got it?"

Wendy wore the look of someone betrayed. She trusted Gajeel, that look said, until very recently.

Gajeel grabbed her arm. "Got it?"

Wendy pulled her arm out of his grip and scrambled back and directly into Jellal, the worse evil. She corrected and hit the desk, then looked around the room pleadingly. "Please. I want to go home."

Jellal loosened his tie and Laxus imagined that he was putting salve on the monster, easing it back into its proverbial home. He looked kinder when he addressed Wendy again. "Before we do anything, Laxus needs your help, Wendy."

Wendy's eyes fluttered Laxus' way and she curled her fingers curled in the hem of her light blue dress. "Please, Mister Fernandez."

"I don't like terrorizing little girls," Jellal said plainly. "I'd rather we do this civilly, but Wendy, I don't think I'm too good for much of anything. Do what I ask, please."

"Zeref said not to do anything if you started bullying—"

"Zeref isn't here."

A tremor took Wendy by force and tears filled her eyes. "I didn't _do_ anything. I want to go home. I want—"

"Fix him up now and I can't give you what you want, but I promise you, your stay here will be pleasant. I'll even take you to see Carla tomorrow." Wendy didn't strike Laxus as the kind of girl to spend all of her time in a graveyard mourning the loss of her friend, the first headless victim to show up in Magnolia, but grief changed people. "You haven't missed a day yet, have you?"

Wendy shivered again. "Please, Mister Fernandez…"

He took her by the shoulders and brought her to the couch. "There isn't any safer place in Magnolia than _Halo_. Fix Laxus up, I'll get you a room, get one of the girls to bring you something sweet—milkshake? You like them, don't you?"

Wendy's hazel eyes were as wide as saucers; that was fear, not longing.

"Then tomorrow morning, we'll talk about your future, Wendy, alright?" He sounded so kind and reasonable. Laxus looked for the lurking monster. It was there. Hidden so expertly. But it was there.

Wendy took the opportunity to go to Laxus. He'd never been the preferred _Evil_ before and it was a strange role for him to take, but Laxus accepted it if it meant that his face would stop radiating pain.

Wendy stood between his legs and touched either side of his face. He felt her magic almost immediately, cool, soft, healing. You could pay Eileen Belserion for a _lot_ of different kinds of magic—always temporary, of course—but you couldn't pay her for healing. Wendy was a gem and Laxus was honestly surprised that Jellal let her be Zeref's for so long. Having a healer was power.

That being said, it was also like painting a nice, large target on your back inviting people in to try to steal her away. He wondered what Zeref was thinking just then. How had he gone so long without this happening? What was he going to do now? What would he give up to have her back? Or was he washing his hands of it all, thinking that he had enough insurance in Precht's backing?

Laxus' cheekbone and nose popped back into place and the pain that came made his vision blurry and his thoughts clear. It was gone again in another moment and he could breathe easy. Wendy came into focus. Her hair was starting to lose its luster blue hue. She looked unkempt. A sad girl after the death of her friend. Laxus, very distantly, felt bad for her.

Jellal peered over her shoulder and inspected her handiwork. "Looks fantastic. Thank you." He checked the huge wrought iron clock on the wall. It was pushing three. It had been a long, long night. "Will you get her a room, Laxus? I'll send someone over to make sure she's safe." Which translated into making sure that she didn't go anywhere. Wendy looked sour about it, too.

"Yeah," Laxus grunted and got to his feet. All the aches and pains he'd suffered were gone. He felt better than he had in months, no longer perpetually tired, his knuckles healed; even the scar on his face felt less tight. "You're a regular fucking miracle, Wendy."

She looked downright horrified by his compliment. Laxus put his palm in the center of her back and led her out of the exit. The door closed and they were alone in the hallway. Her feet were less sure than his. "Keep up," Laxus told her. "You don't want to give Jellal any reason to think you've outlived your usefulness."

She walked in sniffling silence after that, faster, though. Laxus handed her a handkerchief from his pocket. There was only one small spot of blood on its corner. She took it grudgingly and dried her eyes and her nose, too distraught to watch the corridors go by so she could plan her escape. Yeah. Wendy was too genuine.

"What can you do for dying people?"

"Dying?"

"Cancer," Laxus asked. He hadn't meant to blurt the question but now that he was there, he couldn't rightly go back, could he? "Can you cure it?"

Wendy shook her head. "Cancer is the body fighting the body. I can't do anything." Laxus felt stupid for asking. Then she said, "Maybe make it less painful."

Even if that didn't sound too invaluable to Jellal, it sounded plenty fine to Laxus. "I want you to look at my grandfather tomorrow."

"I'm not doing anything while I'm kept here against my will."

"Did you practice delivering that line? I almost believed you. You'll like him, I think. Gramps. He's a little bit surly but he likes company."

"I'm serious. I'm not doing _anything_ ," Wendy reiterated.

Laxus said, "You're a tool, Wendy, and by the looks of it, you've always been." The more he thought on it, the more it made sense. Jellal wouldn't have left such a valuable asset just lying around. He would have found a way to buy Wendy out from Zeref if he didn't think she'd be good collateral in the future. "If you do something, you might die, you might not, but if you do _nothing_ , you definitely will."

Laxus let her think it over. He stopped in front of door number three and got his keys from his pocket. Before opening the room, he imparted another bit of wisdom on the struck-silent girl. "Sometimes, your life gets picked up, kid, and dropped on its head. Only thing to do is hold on for the ride."

Wendy ducked by him. Laxus closed and locked her door just as two men came down the hall, both in suits and guns. They took up residence by Wendy's door. Laxus almost told them to lose their guns but Wendy was a dragon slayer, albeit a small and timid one. If she ever worked up the guts, she could do some damage before she was caught.

Laxus' own room was three doors down and on the left. He was already stripping off his suit jacket and shirt before he got the door open. Both went into a heap on the floor. Someone would pick it up in the morning and throw it out, it was too stained to do much else with. He took himself to the shower and washed. It was when he was drying that his phone rang from his bedside. Laxus entertained just leaving it—whoever it was would get bored of hearing it ring and ring in their ear and they'd hang up. But then a small voice spoke up in his head and he had visions of his grandfather keeling out of bed, dying without anyone genuine by his side. He huffed and answered.

"Yeah?"

The voice on the other end of the line belonged to Minerva. "You have a guest waiting for you. She insists that you promised her the pool. Should I have one of the guys bring her down?"

Laxus' mouth tugged up. "Do that, Minerva."

She hung up on him; she didn't much like being told what to do. Laxus found a pair of shorts and jeans and a black T-shirt, suddenly not at all tired. He checked on Wendy's guards on the way to the pool. They were still in place and Wendy's door was still closed. "All good?" he asked anyway. They nodded.

Laxus passed by the poker room, too, and saw Erza come out. Her jacket had been opened and her gun was on display but there were no bruises on her knuckles from having to put anyone in line and no one that filtered out seemed to be suffering any injuries. If she'd been razzed, she'd gotten a lid on it. "Good night, Scarlet?"

"Good enough, Dreyar," she replied. "You're looking better."

"Told ya, no hospitals."

She rolled her eyes. "Is Jellal still in his office?"

"Waiting for a dame I hear," Laxus said just to get a reaction out of her. He was disappointed; she didn't blush or stammer. What fun was that? "Stoic, Scarlet. Practice that face in the mirror before your shift started?" He didn't know _why_ he loved to bother her so much, he just _did._ One day, she was going to punch him in the face.

"I just don't have much energy for your bullshit."

"As sweet-tongued as ever."

Stoic turned to exasperated. Her finger came up and her other hand waved. Laxus watched her wander down the hallway to Jellal's room. The rest of his journey went without hiccup, though he did spy Anna sneaking out onto the balcony with her husband in tow. Tonight Acnologia had cast aside the looming Mafioso façade and donned the doting husband one. His hand was on her hip and there was a rose in her hand and when Laxus looked at them, he thought he knew what two people honestly in love looked like, though there was something crooked about it, wasn't there? Anna's eyes a little guarded, Acnologia's hand on her waist just a little too tight?

Acnologia caught him staring and Laxus looked away. The less their paths could cross, the better he thought.

Laxus came down the dark hallway leading to the pool and peeked through the small glass window before entering. Mira was already in there, platinum hair lit up by the overhead starlight, the magic-made galaxy Jellal always had on the ceiling up and running for ambiance. That shit was lost on Laxus, he wasn't much of a romantic, but he thought Mira looked good beneath it.

She put her hands behind her back and started to take off the red dress she'd gotten herself into. Laxus opened the door before she could get very far, mostly so she wasn't surprised by his presence. Her fingers hardly slowed, but her eyes came to him.

"You made it."

"I did," she said with a minute smile. "Not without some hassle."

"Oh?"

"If I'm not in bed by five, you may have a monster on your hands."

"Is there a monster hiding under that dress?" Laxus asked.

"Oh, yes." Mira pulled the dress down beneath her collarbones. The tops of her breasts were creamy white against the black strapless bra she wore beneath. "But that wasn't the monster I was talking about."

"The scary brother," Laxus offered absently.

"You got it." Mira's dress eased past the bottoms of her breasts and the bottom of her bra, too, which hugged way down to her last rib. The dress caught on her hips. She did a small dance to get out of it and he saw that her underwear matched her bra, silk trimmed with black lace.

"I see no monster, just a fox."

She stepped out of her dress. Her high heels clicked on the tile floor as she removed them, leaving them neatly side-by-side. "You're not looking hard enough."

Laxus thought he knew an invitation when he heard one but when he stepped toward her, she stepped away from him and into the water, getting deep enough that the ends of her hair got wet and clung to the tops of her breasts. Mira moved to the opposite side of the pool and faced him. Laxus said, "Those are some choice panties you're wrecking there, doll."

Her hands went behind her back and with a flick of her fingers, the dark material came away. Blood rushed to reallocate itself when her panties went the same way, up on the pool deck behind her. Mira laughed; Laxus fixed the stunned look on his face. "If I knew we were getting bare, I'd have invited you back to my room."

"If I went back to your room with you, Mister Dreyar, I'm afraid you'd get strange ideas," she teased.

"Mirajane, darling, you're in your birthday suit," he reminded her.

"Mmhm."

"There's only one idea to draw from that. Now, I'd love to get in there with you but I don't have rubbers here."

"No one said anything about needing rubbers."

"Then what's all this about?"

"I'm not just going to drop into your bed, Mister Dreyar. You haven't earned that yet. I'd like for you to, though." She cupped her breasts as she spoke and Laxus decided what Mirajane already had: there were lots of things he could do without condoms. And if it got further than that, he'd be more persuasive.

He parted with absolutely everything he wore. Mira's bottom lip was sucked into her mouth and her eyes ate him up as he got into the pool. Up to his waist in cool water, he got within inches of her before she put her hand on his chest, cool and wet; water dropped over his skin and tried to make him shiver.

Once he'd stopped his progression, Mira put her elbows back on the lip of the pool and lifted herself up just enough that Laxus could see the half-moon pink of her nipples above the waterline. "You know how this works, right?"

"You think I'm new?"

"I think to me you are."

"I know the ropes."

"Then show me what you can do."

He started with a kiss; Mira seemed like the kind of girl that wanted the whole shakedown, top to bottom without a step missed in between.

* * *

Jellal stopped arranging himself and his belongings only when he heard a tap on his door. He knew it was Erza before he said, "Enter," he could feel it.

He deigned to turn from one of Meredy's scarlet paintings only when he heard the door close; it was all about appearances and he was very aware of his. Ruffled hair, shirt's top two buttons undone, stuffy jacket discarded over his desk's chair. Feet in socks and not the shoes that scrunched his toes. He was also painfully aware of Erza's appearance. She'd removed her hat; her hair was slightly out of place, a little sweaty, and her jacket was open so the black metal of her gun shone. The purple shirt she wore brought out her freckles and the violent colour of her hair. He'd never been more enamoured with red's chromatics.

To Jellal's surprise, Erza took herself to the loveseat she'd occupied the night before and dropped casually onto its square cushion. Her elbow propped up on the armrest and she put her chin on her fist.

"How did it go?"

"Your poker players are a rowdy bunch," Erza replied.

"They can be."

"I threatened Mister Dreyar twice before he stopped trying to touch my bottom."

"The old man made it out tonight, huh?" Jellal asked.

"He didn't stay for very long, a hand or two. Enough to wheedle your father out of a stack of cash."

Jellal snorted. "I bet _Padre_ was very happy about that."

"That wasn't the only thing he was _very_ happy about," Erza said in a baiting way.

"What, Erza?"

"He doesn't like that I'm watching the poker room."

"Did he say something?"

"No, but he was glaring at me for the whole two hours he was there."

"I'll talk to him."

She shook her head. "Don't. If he has a problem, I'd rather deal with it on my own. No one here is going to respect me if you're fighting all my battles for me."

She was right, of course. "Very well." Jellal got himself a drink and Erza, too, then came to her side and dropped himself to the floor beside her, close enough that he could share the armrest with her and his legs brushed hers. One tucked up to his chest, the other he put beneath himself. Erza's muscles got taut at his closeness and then she relaxed and took her drink from his hand.

"What is it?"

"Gin." Jellal watched Erza sip tentatively and shiver slightly when it went down. "Do you like it?"

"Yes."

 _Yes._ He liked hearing her say that. He let his fingers brush hers. Erza's eyes flicked up and locked on his. She didn't twitch her fingers to adjust his grip or invite him to explore further. She didn't push him away either, though. He found her wrist and made a circle with the pad of his finger. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"Which part?"

"All of it, really, though I was speaking directly about threatening to fire you."

"Would you have?"

"Yes," he said. Erza eyed him with equal parts disdain and respect that petered off into something else when he let his fingers inch up her sleeve to her forearm. "Are you hot?"

She wetted her lips before taking off her jacket. Gathering fortification if Jellal wasn't mistaken. When she was free and only in the purple shirt that came to her bicep, she put her hand back in his. Jellal traced his fingers up her arm. Her skin was so, so smooth. He took his time, liking the way goosebumps came to her.

Erza asked, "Why were the police here?"

"They're investigating the disappearance of one of my employees," Jellal said. "Mister Sawyer hasn't been into work."

"Do they think he was murdered?"

"Possibly."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Me, too. I don't like people thinking I'm a target," Jellal said.

With that little bit of information, Erza seemed to draw up her courage. "What happened to Laxus?"

"I used him as bait to lure an old acquaintance out of the shadows."

"Really?"

"No."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Then what?"

"He was jumped in the streets."

"Who would do that?"

"I can't think of a single person."

"You're lying again, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Then what's the truth?"

Jellal smiled. "Laxus had a bad night. The why doesn't matter."

She squinted. "One of your men are missing and could be dead, another one showed up with the snot beaten out of him. Why are you being so elusive?"

"Because you're fishing for information."

"You won't even give me a bite?"

"No, but I might teach you to fish better."

She looked frustrated but determined. "And how do we begin to do that?"

"Firstly, you offer up something the other person wants very, very much." Her shoulder was thin when he closed his hand on it, but there was muscle there, too. He pulled her down and rose up. She was soft against him. Her chest rose and fell, rose and fell, hitting into his.

"Mmhm?"

Jellal could _feel_ her pulse quicken in her veins, her heart beating like a hammer. Was she nervous or excited? Why not both? "Most people are easy. Money. Power. Notoriety."

"What do you want, Mister Fernandez?"

"That's the snag. I'm the exception. Everything I want I have." He slid his cheek across hers. He needed to shave again.

Erza moved her head just slightly; her lips brushed the corner of his. "Everything?"

When she applied herself, she was good. He'd give her that. "Are you trying to coerce me, Miss Scarlet?"

"Could you be?"

"Into being truthful? Not likely." Some days, he told so many lies, _he_ didn't know what was true anymore. "Into kissing you, though…"

Her breath hitched; her fingers squeezed his arm again.

"Is that okay?"

Erza paused, absorbing his words, and then she did it all for him, adjusting her angle just slightly. Suddenly, Jellal was tasting her lipstick. Her tongue. Her mouth was gone again just as easily as it came. She leaned back and searched his eyes. Jellal waited for her to stand and leave. She kissed him again, though, and more compellingly, putting her palm to his cheek and holding him in place. Jellal's head emptied of almost everything. He sat up more fully and leaned into Erza and kissed her with a force that surprised even himself. He liked her. He liked her a lot. He liked it when she fished for information badly and he liked it when she tried the oldest trick in the book to get it out of him.

He especially liked that she seemed to like it, arching her spine and inching his hand up her ribs when he didn't do it on his own.

Even better than all that? He liked pulling back and looking at her, falsely contrite. "Apologies, Erza."

"I kissed you." She had a hold on his tie, not letting him get very far; he had to pull it from her hand to get any space between them.

Jellal smiled. "We're about to be interrupted."

The door was knocked upon. Erza looked surprised, Jellal was pleased to see.

"I don't want to cut this short but I have business." He stood and took up her coat and then grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. "If you don't mind."

"You're kicking me out?"

"Until tomorrow." Jellal ushered her toward the door. On the other side was a bloody Gajeel, full of nicks and cuts where his armour hadn't been quite good enough.

Erza opened her mouth to ask a question; Jellal practically pushed her into the hallway and shoved her coat in her arms. "Good work tonight." He pulled Gajeel in and closed the door again. "Sit."

Gajeel took up the same seat Laxus had. Jellal doled out more scotch that his renegade dragon slayer knocked back without tasting. His glass was filled and the cycle repeated. Moments passed in silence. Then Gajeel nodded. "She just left."

"Erza's tenacious." He thought she would have tried to eavesdrop for longer but maybe that _fired_ thing still resonated with her. "And?"

"Zeref showed like you said he would," Gajeel said. "I caught him a kilometer from Brigade."

Jellal eyed the runners of blood slipping down Gajeel's arms and chest and one cheek that was quickly swelling and turning purple. "Seems like they were a little more willing to open fire than what I gave them credit for."

"Natsu."

"I see."

"He downed a couple of our guys before Zeref got control of him. He apologized and told me he wanted to see you, I told him to wait. He was pissed but apologized for the blood."

"Really?" Jellal smoothed his smile. "Zeref must like Wendy better than I gave him credit for."

"The Den is family," Gajeel said easily.

Jellal couldn't say _why_ that bothered him so much but it _did._ "You told him to come by tomorrow morning?"

"Yeah. He knows if he brings guns, Wendy dies."

"Good."

"And then I called Clive to clean up the mess and sent the tab Zeref's way."

"Good," Jellal said again. "Wendy's set up in room three, maybe see if she'll do something about that." All those welts were starting to look painful, swelling so much now that they couldn't even bleed. "I'll make sure you get a little extra this week for your hard work."

"Thanks, boss." Gajeel stood and left the way he came, slowly.

Ten minutes went by before Jellal got to his feet. He took his gin and wandered _Halo's_ halls, thoughts not on Zeref and the coming altercation as they should have been, but on Erza, and his penchant for curiosity. How long would he let her dig for? He remembered her putting her mouth on his and thought a little longer yet.

Along his way, he glanced in the pool and caught sight of something he wasn't meant to. He didn't linger on the details, pausing only long enough to identify the girl sitting completely naked on the edge of the pool with her head tipped back and her legs wrapped around Laxus' shoulders. Mirajane Strauss. He catalogued that away. Information was power.

He moved on and found that the deck upstairs was in use, as well. Like with the pool, he didn't spend much time lingering, just long enough to identify who was trapped in an illicit embrace. It wasn't totally surprising to see that Miss Belserion was back, this time with his father, Acnologia would have liked the unusual hue of her hair, as he liked Anna's. What _was_ shocking, though, was to see that Anna was there, too.

Jellal didn't know his father to be a careless man when it came to his adulterous ways, nor did he know his mother to be sly enough to spy. He had to assume that it was a consensual thing. He left them to their devices so he could scheme over what they were scheming.


	13. Chapter 13

The alley behind Lucky's was a bust. The only evidence that remained was an arc of blood splatter on the wall at neck height and a golden pendant that looked like it belonged to a necklace, shaped like a barren tree stripped of nearly all its branches. It struck a note in Gray but he couldn't say _why_.

"Do you think it's the killers?"

"I don't know. Looks like something a woman would wear," Bacchus responded.

"Our victim was a man."

Bacchus lifted his shoulders. "Could be it's not even related. Lots of girls sell on this corner, maybe one of them got into an altercation. Things got rough, necklace broke."

"Maybe…" Gray picked it up and put it in his pocket.

Bacchus said, "There isn't anything here, no witnesses, no evidence."

"There was a witness."

"We don't know her though, do we? And we're not going to, either. Stuff like seeing a murder is hush, you know? That girl would have told one or two people, tops. We squeeze a name and our source gets iced."

He was right. Meredy took a pretty big risk telling them anything at all.

"Come on, Fullbuster. Let's call it a night," Bacchus said. "We'll hit Rose's, I'll buy you a drink, you can forget your woes."

"I'd rather just head home if it's all the same," Gray said, heading back to the Tudor.

"It's not," Bacchus said. "Come out."

"No." Bacchus still had the keys so Gray got into the passenger's side. It was a mistake. With Bacchus at the wheel, he drove them to Rose's anyway and took the keys with him when he parked and got out _despite_ Gray calling him an asshole.

"You can either walk back to the Constabulary or you can come inside," Bacchus said.

"I'm not fucking walking _anywhere_." Gray got out and used long steps to catch up with Bacchus. He was fast but Gray snagged him by the door and hauled him around by the elbow. He didn't know _what_ happened next but Bacchus was free and Gray's arm was aching and the keys were walking inside. The door slammed in his face before he got with it and followed.

The bar was bursting with people, the noise and music overwhelming. He looked at the bar first, hunting for Bacchus's tall, lanky frame. Surprisingly, he wasn't there. Gray examined the tables. Yellow caught his eye, a girl squeezed into a revealing dress, and black, her hair was loose around her shoulders. Ultear.

She smiled and waved him over. Gray would have left but his partner and the Tudor's keys were at her side and it didn't look like Bacchus was going to deliver them.

"Hi, baby," Ultear said when he was close enough.

"Ultear. Can I have the keys, please, Bacchus?"

"The keys?" Ultear asked. "You just got here."

"And I'd like to leave, too."

Ultear, for the first time since Gray had known her, looked stricken. "Did I do something?"

Bacchus sold him out without hesitation. "Don't take it personally, Ul, Gray's just had a bad day. Found out his girl's split."

Ultear was nothing but sympathetic. "Then it sounds like he should be with friends."

"It does, doesn't it? I'll tell you what, partner," Bacchus said. "Ultear's just ordered us a round of tequila. You have a seat and a drink and the keys are all yours."

"Please, Gray?" Ultear begged.

"The lady's asking you to stay," Bacchus said. "Are you going to deny her?"

Gray hesitated.

"Just sit down for a few." Ultear took his hand and pulled him down into the seat beside her. He tried to take his hand back and she put it on her leg, high enough that Gray's ears roared. She looked at him sideways and winked. "I won't let you be sad for long."

The tequila came, and it was two shots, not one. Gray took the second because after the first, Ultear put his hand a little higher on her thigh and some of the negative, circular thoughts that had been plaguing him since leaving _Halo_ went to sleep. Bad coping mechanism? Probably, but all of his cards were on the table and Ultear had looked through them. She knew what she was getting into.

Ultear put her elbow on his shoulder and rested her chin on her forearm. She was close enough that he could smell all the alcohol on her breath when she asked, "Another round?"

"Yes," Bacchus answered for Gray. "It's just what the doctor ordered."

The shots appeared while Ultear's fingers were in Gray's hair. After that shot, his fingers were up the hem of her skirt, put there by Ultear and kept there by her, too, though he'd be lying if he said he wasn't eager to see where she'd stop.

It took a total of six shots to realize that a) she'd stopped drinking, and b) she actually didn't have a governor. He was touching her panties under the table, sliding his middle finger over the silk and she was wiggling her hips just enough that she wasn't very subtle. Bacchus wasn't paying attention, he'd snagged a girl of his own, a blonde one that folded into his lap like she'd done it a hundred times before.

Ultear's lips brushed the shell of Gray's ear and then spilled a symphony. Gray walked down the tunnel of Indecent Things her voice dug and found it difficult to find his way out. His sense of direction got even worse when the bartender told them it was time to leave and Ultear suggested that they got a cab. That was the logical thing. They couldn't stay where they were.

When Gray tried to find Bacchus, he was gone with the dame he'd picked up and it was just them in an emptying bar. Ultear stood, shadowy and graceful as a snake, and offered him her hand. He got up on his own and considered it a win but she put his arm around her waist and Gray couldn't figure out how to undo it. He didn't really want to.

The sidewalk was empty when they came out. Ultear pulled a package of cigarettes from her bra and sparked one up with a book of matches that came from the same place.

"How do you have _so much_ hidden in there?"

"Do you want to see?" she asked cheekily.

"What's a guy supposed to say to that?"

She held out two fingers. "Yes. No."

"You're the most brazen girl I've ever met," he said instead.

"Good," she replied.

A cab turned the corner. Ultear stuck out her hand and waved it down. When it pulled up to the curb, she opened the door and pushed Gray inside and then followed him in.

"Where are we going?" the cabby asked.

Gray scoured his brain. Ultear helped him out and gave over his address. Gray waited for her to tell him hers, too, but she didn't. She settled back into the seat, which really meant that she settled back into him, and put his hand back on her leg.

"Where were we?"

Before they got into the cab? She was whispering in his ear things he'd done before but had never heard spoken aloud. Ultear found her way back to the conversation without his input and delivered her words in a low purr while he went back to teasing her. She spread her legs, unafraid in the dark backseat. Her lackadaisical attitude was catching. Gray got bolder and bolder until he wasn't touching just underwear but skin. There was music in the cab, it drowned out Ultear's light sigh and any other noises, too.

The cab came to a stop and Ultear pushed Gray's hand aside. "Pay the cabdriver." She got out; the interior light came on, blinding. Gray squinted and pulled out his wallet.

"How much?"

The driver said, "Five."

Gray gave him fifteen, feeling generous and a little abashed for the way he'd violated that backseat.

Ultear was waiting for him when he stumbled out and took his house keys from his pocket. She knew which one opened the door and pulled him up the stairs by the tie.

* * *

Erza made a conscientious effort to keep the sound of the cab's door closing to a minimum, despite the fact that inside, the light in the laundry room was on. She mounted the steps to the sound of the cab rolling down the driveway; its lights swung back out into the road and then it was driving off. She barely paid it any mind, she was thinking about other things. Jellal, mostly. His lips, the taste of gin on his tongue. The war in her mind that she felt was drawn-out and bloody.

She opened the door and, in spite of the late hour, the smell of cooking _and_ bleach assaulted her nose. Erza freed herself of her coat and shoes. Her feet were _aching_. "Momma?"

The laundry room light was on. Erza drifted that way, listening to the sound of scrubbing. She found her mother wearing only a skirt and a bra, leaning over the laundry sink, elbow-deep in a bucket of pungent bleach. "Momma?"

Eileen startled and let out a breath. "Erza. I didn't hear you."

It wasn't like she was very quiet. Maybe her mother was distracted. "Sorry. Why are you still awake? And what are you doing?"

Eileen straightened. "I wanted to make sure you had dinner when you came home. And I got blood on my favourite shirt."

"Blood?"

Eileen waved her off. "From the roast."

"Oh."

"Yes. It's not coming out very easily." She lifted the shirt. There was a big pink stain on the breast. "I might just have to throw it out." Eileen dropped it back in the bucket and rinsed her arms. She grabbed her robe off the clean laundry pile and draped it over her shoulders, then floated toward the kitchen. "Go get changed. I'll get your dinner out."

"Thanks."

Upstairs, Erza stripped off her suit and hung it up on a hook to be dry cleaned and got into her pajamas. She brushed her hair and washed her face clean of all its makeup before she came back downstairs. Her mother was sitting at the table, a plate of food on the placemat across from her. "Did you have a good night at work?"

"Not really."

Eileen was always reserved but she looked less sympathetic than what Erza expected. "What happened?"

Erza sighed and told her of Gray's visit. And Laxus' state and Jellal's inability to tell her _why_ he showed up like that."

"You'll see a lot of that if you remain at _Halo_ ," Eileen said. "If it makes you uncomfortable, you should reconsider your employer."

"How many times are we going to fight about this?"

"Forgive me. My only daughter is working for Magnolia's resident drug and arms dealer."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Quit."

"And go _where_?"

" _Anywhere_."

"I'll just apply to the bank, why not, and be another skirt at a desk."

"Erza," Eileen said. "You know that's not what I want for you."

"That's what it _sounds_ like."

"You're twisting my words. The streets are unsettled, Mister Fernandez seems to be in the thick of it, and I'm worried about you being so close to this."

"There's no place I'd rather be." She was happiest when she was in the thick of things. Erza stood.

"Where are you going? You haven't finished your dinner."

"I'm tired and not very hungry," Erza lied. She put her plate in the fridge unwrapped. Her mother didn't scold her for it, they both knew she'd be back down to finish it in an hour when the kitchen was empty.

* * *

Six-thirty brought with it a singing alarm. He hadn't two hours of sleep but Jellal wouldn't close his eyes for a minute longer. Up he got. He peed first, unable to deviate from that human ritual, and then when he came back out into his bedroom in a pair of boxer briefs, he made a stop by his TV, unable to shirk that ritual, either.

Bugs Bunny greeted him this morning as he pulled his best suit from the closet. There were a time and place for an Armani and he needn't anyone to tell him that today was certainly that time and Bristol Avenue was certainly that place.

He chose the black dress shirt and the black tie. Usually, he didn't go so dour, he liked a little bit of colour here and there, red, mostly, but if it was going to be messy, he didn't want to have to throw out any clothing. Black hid everything. The last piece of the ensemble was cap-toed oxfords. He tied the laces meticulously just as his father taught him when he was small. Two bunny ears. Loop around, down the waskly wabbit hole. Pull it tight. That done, he made a pit stop in the bathroom to slick back his hair. It wouldn't stay that way without the help of pomade. He was liberal with it.

When he was finally ready, he tried to put to rest any fluttering butterflies in his stomach—why should today be any different than any other day?—it was, though. It was and he couldn't get around that. He wasn't sure he really _wanted_ to.

A call upstairs revealed what he already knew: Zeref was already waiting for him in the bar and he had brought Sting.

"Ask the kitchen to make us breakfast, please," Jellal requested.

He left his guns where they were. It was rude to take them. The one thing he would allow himself was to stop by Laxus' room. It would be good to match Zeref's entourage.

His halls looked the same as ever when he opened his door and stepped into his heaven. His haven. His Halo. At the room where Wendy stayed, there were two guards still very much alive and alert. That was good.

"Did she give you any trouble?" Jellal asked on the way by.

"No, Sir. She's awake and she's getting breakfast now, though," one answered.

"Good. Keep sharp." Jellal kept on.

Laxus' door was answered with less gusto than Jellal would have liked but it was answered. Laxus was in a state. Underwear, that's all. Behind him was a messy bed with a girl sprawled out on the mattress, naked. She was slowly, slowly waking up.

"Yeah?"

Jellal didn't scold Laxus for the unprofessional address. "Get dressed, we have business."

"We do?" Some light and life came to Laxus' eyes.

The girl on the bed sat up dozily and looked around. Her hair was a mess and mostly covering her breasts, though she didn't look too concerned with that just then, she was looking at the nightstand that was choked not only with drug paraphernalia but a bedside clock, too. "Does that say seven? Like, seven AM?"

Jellal ignored the girl, for now, speaking only to Laxus. "You wanted to know when we're making our big move, consider yourself informed. Get on something nice."

"Nice?" Laxus repeated. Jellal slapped his cheek to wake him up and get him in the moment.

"Nice, Laxus. Put on your good threads. We're going to make an impression."

Laxus batted his hand away and closed the door. Jellal waited in the hallway, listening to Mirajane melt.

"You said you could have me home by _five._ "

"And then you wanted to come up to my room. What was I supposed to do?"

"Say no?"

"What the hell would I do that for?"

She huffed noisily. The door was yanked open a second later and Mira came out with her panties in one hand, her heels in the other.

"Miss Strauss."

"Mister Fernandez," she said airily.

"Do you need a car?"

She was already walking by him. "What I need is to get my head examined," she muttered. She was gone before he could say another word. Jellal invited himself into Laxus' room and sat on the bed while Laxus went through the rounds. Disappearing into the bathroom to piss, brushing his teeth, fixing his hair. Coming out again in a fresh pair of underwear.

"Nice night?"

"It was a night," he said shortly.

"I wouldn't be so pissy after turning that classy chassis from my bed."

"I'd be less pissy if she didn't spend the entire night blue balling me," he groused.

Jellal raised a brow.

Laxus' voice got high and squeaky. " _Nothing is free, Laxus. Earn it."_

Jellal laughed and Laxus' annoyed expression intensified. "Is she going to give you another chance?"

"All she says is cryptic bullshit but she seemed to like it well enough." Laxus passed by and Jellal smelled Mira's perfume.

"Aren't you curious about our morning?" Jellal questioned.

"I know you like your games. Figured you'd get to it."

Jellal flopped back on the mattress. The bed smelled like Miss Strauss, too. "Zeref's come. He's brought Sting with him."

"Sometimes, I think Zeref brings him around because he wants him to end up dead," Laxus said as he tightened a blue tie on his throat.

"He is annoying."

"Unbearable." Laxus grabbed his gun and Jellal shook his head.

"No weapons."

"You want to send me in a room full of mages without a fucking gun?"

"Yep."

"Nah uh. No way. Take Gajeel or something if I can't pack."

"I'd rather you."

"I'm touched," Laxus said sarcastically, "But resolved."

Jellal tried a bit of flattery. "I don't trust Gajeel, not like I trust you. Unless something's changed, you're my guy, Laxus. Besides, you said you wanted some action."

"I did." Jellal watched Laxus take in a huge breath and let it all out again. "Alright."

"Thank you. Let's go." Jellal picked himself up from the bed and led the way out of the room, down the hall, and into the bar, where he threw the doors open widely to make an entrance.

Zeref sat at one of the round tables dressed all in black, right down to a pair of black gloves, and Sting matched him. He'd been staring at the door dully when Jellal entered and his expression didn't change.

"You two paint a sombre picture," Jellal said.

Zeref stood. "It's sombre business. Guns?"

Jellal opened his jacket to prove he had nothing. Laxus did the same. "Your turn," and Zeref and Sting mimicked their actions.

The door opened and one of _Halo's_ servers came in pushing a trolley full of food beneath silver covers. Jellal had flashbacks to the previous night and wondered if someone else's head was going to greet him.

When the covers came off, there were only bacon and eggs, toast and hash browns beneath. Plates and utensils were laid out on the table, coffee cups, too. The server dolled out the food, poured steaming black liquid into each cup and then left.

Jellal stacked his plate high. Laxus was more conservative. Zeref stared at the food with a slight curl to his lip and Sting looked voracious but made no move.

Jellal asked, "Have you had breakfast?"

"I want to talk business," Zeref said. "I don't want to eat your food."

"Never deal on an empty stomach," Jellal said. "Men make mistakes."

Zeref's gloves creaked when he flexed his fingers. Jellal kept a wary eye on him while pretending to not, tense as Zeref reached out, his magic was quick, after all, and just as deadly as any gun could be. Zeref only grabbed the plate holding the bacon. He shoveled some on his plate, handed the tray to Sting, and took off his gloves. They lay neatly beside his coffee cup.

Zeref picked up a piece of bacon but didn't take a bite. "I want Wendy back."

"I understand that."

"You had no right to take her the way you did."

"I did not."

"You also had no right to _ruin_ my place on Danver."

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps?" Zeref hissed dangerously. "On what fucking planet is that _perhaps_?"

Jellal sipped his coffee and swallowed. It was strong and almost as good as an early morning cigarette. "You upset me."

"Because I wouldn't let you cow me into a bad deal?"

"That was a good deal," Jellal countered. "At the start of it, we were good friends, you had your healer, your brother was home and your girl was going to get her sister back. Now, though?"

Zeref got dourer if that were possible. "I hope I like your next words."

"You won't. Wendy is staying here. Yukino is mine, and that's just act one."

"I will tear this place apart to take back what is mine."

"A word and she's dead."

Zeref's neck was red and the shadows around the room came toward him, creeping slowly across the ground like a sickness. Sting leaned away from him ever so slightly and didn't take the next bite he was bringing to his mouth.

"It doesn't have to be this way, though."

Zeref took in a short breath. "And what's the other option?"

"Allies. I know," Jellal held up his hand. "You're angry. Just listen.

"Precht approached Laxus and admitted he's in thick with our assassin." That was a little bit of a stretch but Jellal sold it flawlessly; he was good at lying to get what he wanted. "That means _he's_ the one that's been behind this _gutting_ of our city. You've lost good people, Zeref, and so have I. We're both feeling the burn. The Den's not much as it is right now. Come to _Halo_. Have a safe place to stay and work with me to expunge Precht and his people from Magnolia."

Zeref managed to loosen the stranglehold he had on his bacon. "I have it good right now. Precht's bought me a distillery, he's promised us steady work _and_ he hasn't held any of my members hostage to do it."

"No, he's just cut their fucking heads off. You were hit _first_ ," Jellal pressed. "There's a reason for that. He wanted you weak, he wanted you _floundering_ , and when you were, he swooped in with a business deal. Now, you and I haven't always been best friends, we've clashed on territories and had our share of growing pains, but we've never spilled blood unprovoked. Right?"

"True," Zeref reluctantly said.

"I want to fix things between us. I want to work together. So. Tell me what we need to do to make that happen."

"Making nice with you's inviting a guillotine down on my head," Zeref said.

Jellal made him no promises he couldn't keep. "It's the life we lead."

Zeref seemed to like that answer more than anything flowery. "You really want to make this work?"

"This is the second time I've offered, is it not? _Tell me what you need_."

Zeref said, "I need you to let Wendy go. And I need Yukino. And I need a contract worked up. We want property downtown. A building for distilling, and faces to run the upfront. And insurance that the police won't raid it."

"I'll get my girl to fix the paperwork," Jellal said. "As far as the city will be concerned, you're a legitimate business that always pays its taxes. Nothing suspect about that."

"And I want your distribution lines," Zeref pushed. "Your scotch and my stuff sold side-by-side, through your endorsement."

"You want to cut into my profits, in other words," Jellal said.

"It's not good when the rich hoard all their dough." Zeref was without shame.

Jellal made a play at considering Zeref's offer, though he already knew his answer. "Your demands are steep. If I'm going to meet them then I need you to do something for me. As a show of good faith."

"Lay it on me."

"I want you to knock over that little gambling house Precht owns, Sentence Six. Take all the cash, and then raze it."

Zeref didn't balk for much but he was balking now. "Do you know how much security he's got there?"

"I know you'll figure it out." Jellal wiped his mouth and stood. "Do we have a deal?"

"What happens to the cash we take?"

"I have no use for it," Jellal said after a moment. "It's yours."

Sting spoke his first words. "All of it?"

Jellal shrugged. "Sure. I know one of the guys that does security. Lucky for you, he's working tonight. Should I let him know you're coming?"

Zeref sat back in his chair, his thoughts clearly churning. Finally, he said, "Do that."

Jellal smiled. "That's what I like to hear. Feel free to arm yourselves from my store. Anything you need."

"I must be crazy," Zeref muttered.

"I call it smart," Jellal replied.

"A smart man wouldn't forge a deal on so little."

"You're wrong. Honour. It's always been the foundation of our friendship."

Zeref stood and put out his hand; Jellal mimicked him. "Good luck tonight. What's that charming little saying you like to tell one another?"

"No grievers," Zeref said.

"Right. I'll have Wendy on standby."

Sting rushed to stuff the last bite of his meal into his mouth and followed his boss out of the bar, leaving just Jellal and Laxus.

"What do you think?" Jellal asked.

"I think he'll do it," Laxus replied. "He was iffy before but the money's got him hook, line, and sinker."

"Nothing changes, eh? Money talks." For which Jellal was grateful.

"The Den's had a rough go since that Heartfilia business, and word is, that girl's got an inheritance that she's not collecting."

"No, I don't suppose she would," Jellal said. "The police would be on her like flies, sniffing out her and Natsu."

Laxus added, "I hear Zeref's a little conflicted about it."

And why wouldn't he be? Lucy was the one that got Natsu into hot water, she had the ability to pull him out of it, but only at the risk of him getting boiled a little more. "Feeling up for a little more work?"

"What now?"

"We need to teach my father some manners."

"What did he do?"

"Ruined his dreams and then came to ruin mine, Laxus."

Laxus sighed. "It's going to be a long day, isn't it?"

"I suspect."

"Let me check in on Gramps before we get on."

"I have a call to make anyway. Meet me at his room."

Laxus disappeared and Jellal grabbed the phone behind the bar. When her phone went to voicemail, he tried her mark's.

"Fullbuster residence."

"I need you to meet me at Bristol in forty. Come armed and ready for trouble," Jellal said.

Professional to the last, she didn't ask any questions.

* * *

Laxus wondered if Jellal's father knew what was coming his way when they asked Acnologia to join them under the guise of a business deal needing his attention. He was a wily old man, that's how he'd stayed on top for so long, so how could he not sense the menace when Laxus and Jellal rapped on his door in their best suits?

He got his coat without complaint. Jellal stood in the doorway patiently; Laxus loitered behind him and marvelled at how cold Jellal was, only faltering when his mother came out of the washroom in a long black robe, hair tousled gold. She clutched the robe up near her throat and looked at Jellal. Not just at, but _through_ ; Laxus could feel the weight of her gaze from where he stood; he could only imagine how Jellal felt beneath it when she asked,

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, _Madre_ ," Jellal assured her.

"You say nothing but I know that look. It's the same your father wears when he's about to do something he thinks will scare me."

"Everything is _fine,_ _Madre."_

Her voice got unnaturally high. "You lie, Jellal. What's happening?"

Acnologia came out of the walk-in closet in his coat, hair gathered in a low horsetail that fell to the center of his back. He put on shiny black shoes, then dropped a kiss to Anna's cheek. "Nothing is wrong, _il_ _mio amore_."

"You're both wicked liars. Tell me!" She clutched Acnologia's arm. Laxus watched Jellal for his reaction. There was a moment where he flinched. He touched his tie, though, and tightened it, and he was composed once more. He held out his hand for his father.

"Come. The day is wasting."

Acnologia kissed Anna square on the mouth and then went to Jellal. Jellal wrapped his arm around his shoulder and they walked like that all the way out of _Halo_ and to the Studebaker. He gave his father the front seat and took the back. Laxus drove. They went in silence all the way to Bristol. It was only after they pulled into the underground parking that Acnologia asked,

"What crime have I done, Jellal?"

Laxus watched the exchange through the rearview mirror. His hand was on his gun but he didn't draw it yet.

Jellal sounded like a cool cat saying, "You take advantage of my hospitality."

"Oh?"

"My men call you Sir. When you ask Arum to ruin my evening, he agrees."

"Yes. There was that, I suppose. I guess you should know, too, that Gajeel didn't return to work this morning."

Laxus could _hear_ Jellal's teeth grinding. "I _suppose_ at least you're truthful going to your death."

"You're angry. There are things you don't understand, though."

Laxus stopped the car and Jellal said, "I understand enough." He got out and got his father's door, saying, "You told me to never shirk the punishment that's coming for me. Now come and take yours like a man." He reached into the car and pulled his father out by the arm. Acnologia shook him off.

Laxus did nothing to help or hinder, leaning back against the hood of the Studebaker and taking in the parking garage's dark copper floor, still stained by Natsu's blood; soon it would be bright again.

Acnologia said, "Killing me will be a mistake. You'll want me by your side in the days to come."

Laxus didn't suspect Jellal would hesitate but he did. "And why's that?"

"Because as it stands, you're waltzing into a nest of vipers and I am your only ally, _mio figlio._ Let us drive back to _Halo_ and forget all that's happened here today. Then you can make your _madre_ breakfast and apologize for worrying her _._ "

Jellal hardened his jaw. "Speak plainly. What nest?"

"That's all I can say without risking everyone's life."

"It's not enough." Jellal took out his pistol and aimed smoothly. He even started to depress the trigger, colder than what Laxus gave him credit for. He never got the shot off. The floor beneath their feet exploded and they both fell, down, down, through layers of concrete and rebar. Laxus hit the bottom along with fist-sized pieces of concrete; his ears were ringing and his lungs were rejecting all of the dust-choked air he dared to drag in.

Men's voices filled the garage, Acnologia's and Precht's and some Laxus didn't recognize.

Bullets started raining down in the hole. One bit into the concrete by Laxus' head.

Precht's voice rang out loud and clear. "Leave them. The police will be here shortly."

The bullet's stopped. Darkness came for Laxus.

* * *

Gray woke not to the sound of his dolling doorbell but to feet on his stairs. He rolled over and blinked dazedly up at the ceiling; it was stucco as he remembered, which was good because his head was cottony enough that he felt like he didn't remember much of anything at all.

His door wasn't knocked upon but opened without permission. Gray squinted and focused on Bacchus standing in the doorway, outfitted in his Constable's uniform. "Wakey, wakey, Constable Fullbuster."

Gray grunted lowly. "How did you get in here?"

"You left the front door unlocked. Or Ul did, one of the two."

Ultear.

Gray turned his head slowly and looked at the other side of his bed. The pillow still held the indent of her head, and there was Deptford Pink lipstick the pillowcase.

Gray sat up slowly. "She's gone?"

Bacchus shrugged. "I don't see her here, do you?"

No, he did not.

"Get up and let's get going."

"Going?"

"There was an explosion on Bristol. Bad one. Chief told us to check it out."

"Shit."

"Fire and ambulance are already there; they're waiting on us."

"Bristol? Is it Fernandez's building?" Gray repeated.

"Yeah."

Gray groaned and dropped back to the pillow.

"Lord." Bacchus tipped his head up to the ceiling, saying a prayer, likely, for a partner that wasn't quite so dense or hungover, before coming to Gray's side and throwing the blankets off him. He didn't even flinch when Gray was naked beneath. He picked up last night's pants off the floor and threw them at Gray, who caught them clumsily. Holding the material, Gray was thrust into a memory that was only half-there. Ultear pacing his room back and forth, back and forth with a wicked smile. Her mouth moved around a word Gray couldn't hear but could decipher well enough. _Shirt._ And then once he'd removed that, _Pants._

"What's wrong, Fullbuster? You look like you're choking. Good?" Gray didn't answer so Bacchus asked, "Going to puke?"

Yes. No. Gray thrust his fingers through his hair. The feeling fled. "I'm good."

"Good. Then get the hell up and let's agitate the gravel. Chief's already pissed at us for ditching the Tudor at Rose's."

"What?" Gray asked sharply.

Bacchus was unapologetic. "Guess he saw it on his way into work this morning. Made sure to call me up nice and early."

No. No. No. "You're kidding, right?" _Please._

Bacchus waved him off. "I told him he should be thanking us very much for not driving it home drunk."

"You did _what?"_ It felt cruel for his _entire_ life to unravel piece by piece but that's what it was doing. Erza. His career. What was next? Was the house going to go? The cottage? The truck?

Bacchus didn't seem to have a care in the world. "He doesn't like being lied to."

"You could have lied a _little._ Told him we got _robbed_ or something."

"You sound fucking ridiculous." Bacchus straight-faced. "Get dressed. Get your gun. After we dig through the rubble, you can go into Chief's office and tell him how you were coerced into a night of irresponsibility."

Gray got up, grumbling. How had their positions reversed? Bacchus was the negligent one, not him.

* * *

A/N: I know re-writes are annoying but I'm so much happier, so… Not sorry.


	14. Chapter 14

Every few seconds, Jellal's head would hit something and he'd know a sharp, drilling pain in his temple. He did nothing about it for what felt like a long time. He was busy thinking about other things. How dark it was behind his eyelids, how loose his muscles felt, how Elvis sang out of the turntable,

 _If your baby leaves you,  
You have a tale to tell,  
Just take a walk down Lonely Street to Heartbreak Hotel!_

"Well I get so lonely, baby, I get so lonely, I get so lonely I could die."

Her voice joined in and it was way, way sweeter than Jellal knew Ultear to be. Another large bump. His head hit something soft yet, it felt like bedrock. He opened his eyes and focused on the grey ceiling of her Buick Eight. They went over another pothole and Jellal was jarred. His ribs ached badly enough to elicit a grunt from his mouth.

"You're alive."

Jellal moved so he could look at the back of Ultear's head. Her hair was glossy, obsidian black. Girls dyed their hair to get it that colour. Ultear's was all natural. "Am I?"

"You're talking, so I guess so." She started humming to the music.

"I've seen dead men talk."

"You're right, me, too." She reached behind herself and pinched the skin at his belly hard enough to make him hurt.

"Ow."

"You're alive, Panty Waist."

Jellal pushed her hand back up into the front seat and slowly got himself into a sitting position. He bumped into Laxus at his side, who had been his impromptu pillow. Laxus' head was bleeding and his skin looked pale but his breath was fogging up the window, so he was alive. "Bristol?"

"It's in pieces."

Jellal made himself cold and calculated. "And my father?"

"I watched him leave with my father in his Lincoln." Jellal said nothing. Ultear asked, "Do you think he sold you out?"

"For all I know, you did, Ultear."

"I picked you up."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"No, it doesn't, does it?" she mused.

She was being sarcastic but Jellal couldn't help but be suspicious.

Ultear looked at him in the rearview, waiting for him to decide either way. It was too hard to guess loyalties in Magnolia on _any_ day, the day when his father stabbed him in the back, though? Jellal would rather wait for the scales to balance before doing anything rash.

He looked past Ultear at the dirt road ahead. They weren't anywhere he recognized. "Where are we?"

"I thought you'd want to hit Daddy back after that low blow."

He did, very much so. It didn't sit right with him, though.

Ultear was perceptive to his incredulousness. "What does that look mean?"

"Whatever hard feelings you have toward him, Precht raised you."

"Unlike you or Laxus, I'm not soft for family," Ultear responded and turned onto another dirt road, this one lined with tall maple trees that sat in front of golden farm fields. There was a barn at the road's end, new-looking, painted red, windows trimmed with white. There was a house, too, red brick, double storey sitting behind a long, winding driveway.

"What is this?"

"My father's growing supply of heroin. There are five men with guns guarding the property. If you stay back there beneath the blanket, they'll let me into the barn without trouble and we'll hit back."

Jellal let his eyes fall to the floorboards where a tan coloured blanket was crumpled up. "Oh, yeah?"

"What's the matter, don't you trust me?"

Ultear was a girl worth keeping around. Invaluable. Did he trust her, though? "Not really."

"You weren't saying that when I pulled you out of the rubble."

"You weren't driving me to my enemy's lair then, were you?"

"No, but you _did_ ruin what was going to be a very nice morning with a very tortured and lost constable. All's fair."

"How _is_ Constable Fullbuster?" Jellal asked while he picked up the dusty blanket and stretched it out.

"Less heartbroken than he was last night, I'm sure."

"Do you get tired of preying on vulnerable men?"

"Never."

He wondered if he shouldn't be thanking her; Gray Fullbuster was so busy untangling the webs Ultear was weaving, he didn't have much time to think about how he was being used. Then Jellal thought he didn't wish Ultear on _any_ man. She was a whole lot of kooky.

Ultear pulled her Buick into the long farm driveway and said, "If you're going to get under the blanket, you should do that."

Jellal examined the dusty material once more, debating. His suit was already ruined by his fall through Bristol but that blanket looked like it had been a dog bed or something. He picked it up by the corner and identified the smell coming from it. Horses. Of course. Ultear rode horses so why wouldn't she have a horse blanket in her car? "I'm in a very nice suit."

"You're so vain."

Yes, he was. "And what are we supposed to do with Laxus?"

"Get close?" she asked with a smile.

Even if he was willing to, there wasn't enough blanket. "There are only five of them you said?"

"Yes."

"Do you have a gun?"

Ultear sighed exasperatedly but opened her glovebox and took out the pistol Jellal _knew_ she had hidden. The Colt 1902 fit into his hand perfectly, its rectangular muzzle scratched of its burgundy paint, the metal showing through. She was prepared for everything. Her own was a smaller Luger P08 that she took out from between her breasts.

"Did Constable Fullbuster get to see that hat trick?" Jellal mused.

"I never kiss and tell," Ultear replied.

The car passed a horse's paddock where an appaloosa and a quarter horse ate grass lazily. In the field behind them were rows upon rows of cattle corn. It was an elaborate front. "I hope you're not trying to pull the wool over my eyes," Jellal warned her one more time.

"Better undo your window there, Clyde," Ultear responded. "I don't want my car damaged if I can help it."

Jellal did as she suggested then checked the pistol's rounds and got a bullet into the chamber. The front door of the farmhouse opened; a man exited, holding a shotgun. He started to aim but dropped the muzzle when he noticed Ultear's hand come out of her window in an exaggeratedly pleasant wave. Jellal took aim while the man deciphered what was going on. His bullet took him in the chest and the man fell.

Two more men came out of the house and took his place. They were less willing to hold off on their shots and Ultear's request to go easy on her car went ignored, the sides of the beast filled with pellet shot in no time. She grunted in annoyance and stomped her foot down on the gas. Jellal brought his arms back into the cab as the car swerved down the laneway, onto the lawn, and over the patio stone walkway. He winced first when Laxus' head cracked hard off the window, and then again when one of Precht's men made contact with Ultear's bumper and was mowed down. She slowed up to spin around, tearing up the green grass as she did so, knocking Laxus' head _again,_ and gave the other one the same treatment; Jellal tried to put the man out of his misery quickly and shot him, again in the chest. He fell like a sack of bricks.

"You shouldn't have done that."

"You shouldn't run people down," Jellal told her.

Ultear glowered. "He _ruined_ my car."

"And you took his life, doll. Maybe you're even?"

Ultear's look was enough to skin a man alive. His regret for Gray Fullbuster deepened; he had no idea the monster he was tangoing with. "You're right. He wrecked the car. He deserved it."

"Yes, he _did_ ," she said stubbornly.

"Where are the other two?"

"In the barn, likely," she said. "Maybe on the phone to Precht as we speak. Maybe lining up a shot. Who knows?"

Jellal put his gun down and got out of the car. The morning air was crisp and smelled like balsam fir sap. He breathed deeply.

"What are you doing?" Ultear asked.

"Let me handle this one."

He imagined he could _feel_ sightlines being drawn on him. Jellal held out his hands at his sides and welcomed his magic. Arum's wasn't the place for a scene but here in the country? He could do a little destruction and not feel sad for it. Power roared through him and then the sky gave up its prize, a meteor the size of a boulder. It hit with a resonating but delayed boom and proved to be enough to level the barn, the house, and dent the car, too, the shockwave kicking up dust and debris, throwing bits of destroyed paraphernalia into the air. Hundreds of thousands of dollars, gone in a blink. The horses in the paddock screamed and ran, panicked, stopping up short at the far fence line where they reared and spun, crazy with fear. Jellal basked in the bedlam for as long as he dared.

When he got back into the car, Laxus was awake and looking around in confusion. "What the hell is happening?"

"Busy day," Jellal said.

"Bristol?"

"Gone."

"Your old man?"

"Gone, too."

Laxus swore.

Jellal told Ultear, "Take us back to _Halo_ , we need to see how deeply the rot of my father's deception runs."

Ultear got the car into drive and crunched the tires over debris; she avoided the largest bits. "My car's ruined," she muttered when the bumper dragged over the ground.

"I'll buy you a new one."

"A black one," she said without missing a beat.

They were two of a kind, birds of a feather.

* * *

The parking lot was empty. That wasn't _unusual_ for this time of day, Jellal supposed as he threw open Ultear's door and got out of her car, but it was unsettling, in a way. A bag of Old Dutch regular chips skated over the concrete and got stuck on a light standard where it wobbled to-and-fro. It was the liveliest thing that dared move. He felt a slew of curses come to him and choked them all back. An empty parking lot didn't mean _anything_.

"Did you boys want company?" Ultear asked.

Jellal considered her offer. "If you want to keep your position at the Constabulary, you should probably go."

"You mean if _you_ want me to keep my position."

"Don't pretend you don't have fun." She heard things that Jellal didn't. She got in close with the constables and dug up the dirt that the media couldn't. She was an excellent source and she loved her work.

Ultear didn't put up too much of a fight, she was always practical and enjoyed the benefits of a double paycheque. "What about my car?"

"Scrap it. I'll send a new one your way later today."

"If _later today_ doesn't come for you?" Her words earned her a dry look. Ultear said, "No offense, Jellal, but it seems to me like someone is trying to kill you."

"You may ask my _padre_ to fulfil the debt. Surely he still loves his son that much." Of that he was certain. His father was crooked and had a strange sense of right and wrong, but there _was_ honour to him. He would tie up the loose ends that needed tying.

Ultear sighed and went rooting through her glovebox. When she came out, she held a handful of shiny brass bullets. "Here. Just in case."

Jellal took them and loaded his gun as he walked. Laxus fell into step beside him. "My head's fucking ringing."

"Be thankful that Ultear was watching us and called the police or we'd both be cooked. It was the sirens that scared them off."

"I wonder if this means Precht isn't interested in being friends anymore?" Laxus said sarcastically.

"I'd count on him coming back." Jellal looked over his shoulder and saw that Laxus was pinching his eyes closed; his head must have really been spinning, he hadn't done much of anything to prepare. "Get out your gun. I don't like this. The place is too quiet."

Laxus fumbled it out of his holster and Jellal reached for _Halo's_ doors. There was an annoying observatory of butterflies in his stomach that didn't dissipate upon his entry. He checked _Halo's_ dining room and behind the bar, he checked the kitchen, too. Not a soul was to be found.

Laxus whistled lowly. "Where is everyone? Doesn't even look like there was a struggle up here."

Jellal withheld his answer and took to the hallway between the washrooms where he opened the doorway in the wall. The soft blue glow of string lights greeted him, the floor barely illuminated. He slid his shoes over the ground and followed a path that he could navigate blind. The hallway deposited him in his office, which when cleared, Jellal discovered was untouched. Even his safe was intact.

"You know, I actually saw something like this once," Laxus said. "When Fairy Tail was still around and friends with Grimoire before you got on the scene. There was this gang that called themselves Eisenwald that kept getting in Precht's way. He went in flinging his money around, giving people a choice. Anyone that didn't readily join Grimoire was gunned down."

Jellal wasn't sure if that was supposed to make him feel better or not. He paid his people _well,_ and yet his halls were empty. "Where's he getting that kind of cash from, huh?"

Laxus shrugged.

"And, more importantly, _how_ did Precht's people just walk in? _Conveniently_ while we were preoccupied? _Halo_ has _security_ for that shit."

"Dunno."

Jellal looked at Laxus skeptically, trying to catch him in a lie; did he seem pale? That could have been his head bleeding. He had a concussion if Jellal was any judge. Him standing and talking seemed like a miracle.

"Have something to say?" Laxus prodded.

"Let's keep moving." Jellal's hold on his pistol was a little clammy. He wiped his palm on his pants before continuing on.

The first sign of struggle came in the hallway by Wendy's room. Both of her guards had been shot in the head and left to weep red. Jellal pushed Wendy's door open and peeked inside. The room was empty. No blood. No Wendy. He wasn't sure if he should be happy about that or not.

Jellal moved on to the next most important place. The room his parents had shared. The door was open. He held his pistol at his thigh when he stepped over the threshold. She sat on the loveseat, still in her favourite black robe, staring at the wall.

" _Picolla stella_." It wasn't her native tongue; she spoke it well, learned for her husband and then for her son.

" _Madre_."

"Your father. Is he dead?"

"No."

She took in a hitching breath. "But he is gone from here."

"He's betrayed me. Have you, as well?"

She looked at him slowly. "Do you think I could?"

"I think you could do a great many things if you thought it necessary. I'd like to believe you haven't done this, though."

As far as Jellal knew, his mother had never been afraid of him before. Her lip wobbled now, though, and her hands shook. "I can prove it." She lifted her voice. "Come out, child." The bathroom door opened and Wendy came through looking scared and tousled in a pair of dark blue long-sleeved pajamas that were just a little too long for her.

Jellal asked, "Was it you that shot her guards?"

"It was the old man," Anna said, and Jellal was glad. He didn't know what he'd do if his mother wasn't the woman he thought her to be—kind, incapable of inflicting such damage.

"Makarov?"

"They were trying to get into her room with their guns drawn. I argued with them, trying to get them to stop. Makarov came from his room to see what the commotion was."

"Where is he?" Laxus demanded.

"His room, I think," Anna replied.

Laxus started for the door. "Wait." Jellal thought for a moment Laxus would ignore him but he _did_ wait. Jellal said, "Wendy, fix him up."

Wendy took a wobbly step forward and another.

"Quickly now."

She jumped and scurried, laying her hands on Laxus' arm. Jellal watched Laxus' head stitch back together and some colour return to his skin. It took only seconds, after which Jellal dismissed Laxus. "Go, take Wendy with you and make sure Makarov's alright. Kill anyone you don't recognize."

Laxus disappeared, and Jellal focused on his mother again. "You argued with those men?"

Anna's knuckles turned white, she clenched her fists so hard. "I thought they would kill her. Mister Dreyar helped me bring her back here and keep her safe."

"What happened afterwards?"

"Eventually, the gunshots stopped and we couldn't hear voices anymore. Makarov left to check the halls. He told us that aside from Miss Seilah, Miss Orland and Mister Nanagear, everyone had left."

Was that _all_ that remained of _Halo_ 's force? Jellal felt a headache brewing behind his eyes. He pinched his nose, a frustrated tick he'd picked up from his father, and Anna took in a short, scared breath. Jellal thought she'd used up all her bravery and would leave him to his fury, yet she did what she always did for him and met his mounting rage with gentleness. "Come here, _picolla stella_."

Jellal hesitated.

"Come. Please."

Jellal went to her and when she asked, laid down on the cushions on his back. It took some effort because he was sore and he didn't fit, not properly. His feet hung over the side of the couch and his head was in her lap. Her fingers threaded through his hair and she stared at the wall hollowly. There were bags under her eyes and her skin was sallow. She'd never had much of a taste for this kind of thing.

The silence and their closeness were gradually making her relax, though, and Jellal chose to hit her with the hard questions. "Tell me about Miss Belserion."

Anna's dark eyes tracked to his. "The sorceress?"

That was an ancient term that didn't _belong_ in Magnolia, as far as Jellal was concerned, not as She was today, bustling with cars, brimming with steam, choking in industrial smoke. What else was Eileen Belserion, though? "Yes. What did she do for you and how did you pay her? I thought you had nothing?"

Anna's lip wobbled. "Jellal—"

Acnologia's voice rang in his head, trilling about vipers and nests. "I love you, _Madre,_ but I'm prepared to do whatever I need to get some answers."

She spilled. "The men at the bank didn't question me when I came to remove your funds."

First came incredulity. " _Madre_."

She wiped a tear from her eye. "I never would have stolen your money if I didn't think it was worth it."

"But you have. Why didn't you ask me?"

"I didn't know if you'd side with your father."

"We've always been at odds." And she had always been in the middle. Another tremor took Anna. Jellal asked, "What has Miss Belserion done for you and why?"

"Your father told me not to waste resources but after Serena attacked us I was scared. I paid Miss Belserion strengthened my magic."

"Her spells are temporary."

"I was _scared,_ Jellal."

Which was the exact answer he _expected_ from her. It was the most logical. He didn't like it. "You didn't need to take your clothes off for that. _Twice,_ actually, I saw you on the porch together _._ "

She stared him down for another heartbeat, two, and then she crumbled like soft talc. "I paid her."

"For?" He wanted her to say it.

"Eileen Belserion's first business is pleasure," Anna spat. "I _paid_ her." Her cheeks were the same colour as her throat, the red of candied apples.

Jellal wasn't as shy as she was. "Why?"

"Because I grow tired of men." She wrung the words out.

"That's why you and _Padre_ were sharing her on the balcony? Because you grow tired of men?"

Anna was flustered, which, in Jellal's experience, was when people told the truth. "He caught me with her. What was I supposed to say?"

"' _Mio amore,_ you're a worthless lover and I've taken a woman instead.'" Jellal mimicked her voice, to her great ire. Anna stood without waiting for him to move his head. The cushion was warm where she'd been.

Anna paced. "You know _nothing,_ Jellal."

Pained, Jellal sat up and stood. "Do you know what _Padre_ told me before I tried to put a bullet in his head? I walk into a nest of vipers. He said things would go easier with him at my side. Now, I have no love for him but a liar my father is _not."_

Anna pressed her hand against the back of her mouth to stifle a sob. Jellal put away his pity and took out his gun. She saw it and tripped on the sofa trying to move away. Jellal grabbed her arm and held her in place, the barrel against her cheek. "Tell me now, _Madre,_ and tell me truthfully, have you _anything_ to do with this?"

She looked like she was going to faint or be sick, looking between the gun and Jellal. "Jellal, please—"

" _Tell_ me."

She said with feeling, "I love you. You are my _son_. I would never scheme to hurt you."

He believed her. The gun felt too heavy to hold. Jellal dropped it to the couch and pulled Anna against his chest. "I'm sorry, _Madre._ "

Anna put her face into his shoulder, suddenly boneless. "You frighten me, Jellal."

He scared himself, too, sometimes. He rubbed her back. "I'm sorry."

"This life makes people hard. I never wanted it for you."

He was his father's son and this was his legacy. And he _liked_ it that way. "It's too late for regrets."

Anna leaned back so she could see his eyes. "It's never too late. You've only to put away your ambitions, take the wealth I know you've accumulated and _leave_ this place. Live happily. Take a wife. Have children. Lead a normal life."

"I'm not satisfied blending in with the shadows, _Madre._ You're not, either, so don't pretend otherwise. This is our lives. We chose it, and fear of tomorrow won't make me leave it behind."

Jellal didn't have too long to dwell on Anna's disappointed expression, red caught his attention. It should have been a violent colour. It _was._ It was. Somehow, it was soothing, too. Perhaps it was her eyes that softened the blow. He released his mother and addressed her properly. "Erza."

Erza looked between Anna and Jellal and he imagined what she'd say next. He didn't consider she'd put forth, "What happened to you?" or "Are you okay?"

Jellal remembered his state of being, his suit, his shoes. The gun thrown to the couch. He picked it up and put the safety back on, then put it in his pocket. "What are you doing here?"

She said, "I was going out this morning and heard about Bristol on the radio. I was worried. By the looks of things, it seems I had reason to."

"I'm fine."

She stepped into the room tentatively, one eye on Anna, the other on Jellal. "Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure." Jellal sounded waspish even to his own ears. Erza didn't flinch.

Wendy appeared in the doorway, "She only means you're hurt, Mister Fernandez."

There were more important things to worry about than that. "The old man?"

"He was fine. Laxus is with him."

"Did you see anyone else?"

She shook her head and stepped into the room. "Let me help you."

"Because you're feeling very charitable after your stay here, right?" Jellal posed.

Wendy clutched her hands in front of her waist. "Zeref called and said we were allies. Has that changed?"

Jellal saw Erza's interest piqued. She did well to hold back her questions. Jellal said, "No. That has not changed."

"Then let me help you."

Jellal sighed. "Very well."

Wendy came at him with her hands outstretched, quivering just slightly. Her magic came on, warm and soft. He watched her intently, feeling his ribs cinching themselves back together, his bruised muscles reknitting, the painful throbbing in his head lessening. She finished in just a moment and backed up, looking a little pale.

"How is that?"

"Good. Thank you. You can lay down in here for a while, Wendy, and rest while I get someone to clean the bodies up outside your room." He didn't _care_ if Erza looked at him incredulously for hiding murder. He was too annoyed to do that dance just then. Besides, what would the police do, incarcerate an old, sick, and dying man for protecting a child? _A wanted child originally here against her will._

Yes, he was too annoyed for this dance.

Wendy said, "Thank you."

Jellal told his mother, "Call the kitchens? If anyone's alive down there, ask them to make Wendy breakfast?"

Anna had a soft heart. She nodded and turned away. "I have to dress."

Jellal left her to it. Erza watched him approach with a hard to read expression on her face. _Was_ that worry? Could he be so lucky? "Come," he told her. "I'd like to speak with you." He let his hand hover over her spine and guided her out and to his own room just a few doors down, careful to avoid the hallway where the dead men lay. He didn't speak until his door was closed and locked for good measure. He checked all the hidey holes to make sure no one waited, too. The closet, beneath the bed, the bathroom.

It was all clear. Which was _maddening_. It was more humiliating to be usurped than killed, and Precht knew that.

Erza put herself on the loveseat identical to the one in his mother's room and crossed her legs. It was then that Jellal noticed that she wasn't in her customary suit today, wearing instead a black and white polka dot dress with a high neckline, white Mary Janes on her feet. He could see the line of her leg holster against the dress's material, her gun. Her lips she'd brushed with red lipstick. It was an unusual colour, so dark it was almost black. She looked spectacular.

"Where is everyone?"

It took him a moment to register her words. "Either dead or bought out. I've been betrayed."

Erza sat forward in her seat. "Pardon my asking, Mister Fernandez, but who betrays a simple restaurant owner and kills his men?"

He didn't smile; neither did she. "There's more at stake than _Halo_."

She knew that, of course. "Tell me what happened."

He was still feeling prickly. "So you can sell my secrets, too?"

"I have no one to sell them to," she said.

Jellal wasn't sure if he believed her because there was a severe _lack_ of people he could share his woes with or because he honestly thought her trustworthy. "A few months ago, I received a phone call from my mother. She and my father were on the run. Their home had been razed to the ground, all of their funds had been seized, and a very powerful man was looking to kill them." He shed his suit jacket and tie, while he spoke, throwing them on his mussed-up bed, and started on his dress shirt, too. Erza's eyes followed him across the golden carpet to the closet where he pulled out a new suit, navy, and a dress shirt, white.

"That sounds awful. Why were they targeted like that?"

Jellal sighed. " _Padre_ ran his business in much the same way I run mine."

"Crookedly."

"If that's what you want to call it. It attracted some unwanted attention."

"As it seems you often do."

"Inevitably. I gave them a safe house to stay in and made sure they had everything they needed. My safe house was compromised, though, by one renegade Dragneel, and they showed up here. Everything was fine, mostly, until very recently when I discovered that not only has Precht Gaebolg been trying to buy people out from under me, one of my men have been disposed of."

Erza knew. "The man that was found by the docks, he was yours?"

"Yes. And his head was sent to me directly. I asked some questions and discovered some disturbing news. Not only has _another_ of my people been attacked, my father is involved. I deigned to deal with the problem this morning and when I _did_ , I was interrupted by Mister Gaebolg."

"He was the one that destroyed Bristol," Erza stated.

"Yes." Bristol had nothing in it, the property was all but worthless, and he could have let it go if Sentence Six was knocked off first, called it collateral damage, but it hadn't been. Precht had thrown the first punch. And the second. And the third. It was an audacious action, coupled with returning to _Halo_ to find that more than half of his staff had been bought out. It was the blow he didn't see coming and now he felt like he was floundering.

Erza stood and came to him. Whether she was in Oxfords or Mary Janes, she moved across the floor with grace. She leaned against the wall beside his closet and tilted her head. Her hair was scarlet web silking across her black-and-white-clad shoulder. "What will you do, Mister Fernandez? About your father and Mister Gaebolg?"

He had thought more than once Erza shared her mother's gift for sorcery; the thought returned now as he found himself wanting to tell her all. "I'm going to Sentence Six tonight."

"The gambling house?"

"Yes." He hadn't planned on going himself but he had a bitter taste in his mouth he longed to get out. "I wouldn't mind a date."

"Are we doing something illegal?"

"I'd never ask you to do something so morally conflicting."

"You'd just endorse it."

"I have been known to be a bad influence. What do you say, doll? It's a hep place."

Erza made a show of considering his offer. He knew she wouldn't be able to resist, though. "Very well."

Jellal took his wallet from his pants and counted out some bills and passed them over. "You should find something nice to wear. It's high-class."

Erza lifted her gaze to his; her eyes weren't of a pure colour, there was gold flecked in the brown. "Should we expect resistance?"

"Always come prepared."

She wrapped her fingers around the bills and plucked them from his hand. "Then I'll choose an appropriate dress."

Jellal stole a kiss he wasn't sure she was offering. Erza startled, then relaxed and Jellal decided that maybe not _all_ of today was terrible. He pulled away from her again and took his suit across the room into the bathroom. "I need to shower. You can join me if you like."

Her cheeks went red. That was good. Jellal didn't like it when she had all the power. "Does your forwardness have no boundaries?"

Jellal winked at her. "I haven't found them yet."

Erza rolled her eyes. "When should I return?"

"Come back for ten," he decided.

* * *

The cigar was good. The whisky even better, though neither did much to calm Laxus' nerves. He studied his grandfather through a cloud of grey smoke.

"Why are you staring at me, boy?" Makarov groused.

"I'm trying to decide how fucking senile you've gone," Laxus replied.

"What's that to mean?"

Laxus dropped his voice. One could never be too careful. "Someone told Precht where we were going to be and when we were going to get there."

"So?"

"So, the only person I told was _you_ and the only person Jellal told was _me._ Now I know what _I_ did afterwards, I got in a car and drove off so I could paint some concrete red, _you're_ the loose end."

"Are you accusing me of setting my own grandson up?" Makarov hissed.

"What other choice do I have?"

Makarov shook his head. "You're being foolish, Laxus."

"I'm not hearing a whole lot of denial."

Makarov glowered. "I want what's best for you, stupid boy, and I always have. And if that's not enough for you, I shot those men that tried to take that girl. If that doesn't spell loyal, I don't know what does."

Laxus folded his fingers together and propped his elbows on his knees. The smoke from his cigar coiled lazily in front of his eyes. "I hope that's true, otherwise you're digging _both_ of our graves."

Makarov settled back in his bed. "I've done nothing. Now share that whisky with an old, dying man. I earned it."

Laxus left him with the bottle.


	15. Chapter 15

Bristol was a mess. Gray didn't spend much time there. Long enough to decipher if there were any bodies (there weren't) or any witnesses (suspiciously none) or any other things of interest, ignition sources or blast particles (absolutely nothing).

"How does a building just blow itself apart?"

It was Bacchus that saved him from running circles, chasing his tail. "Magic."

The pieces lined up well enough. Gray leaned against his recovered Tudor and groaned. "I hate magic cases."

"You, me, and everyone else that's ever worked one." Bacchus lit up a cigarette and offered one to Gray. Gray dithered, then took one out of the pack when he noticed Chief Briggs pull up in a shiny black Tudor that, If Gray had to guess, did not smell like puke. The distraction lighting that cigarette gave him didn't actually slow time down, the Chief still crossed Bristol Avenue and stood like a wide, stout pillar in front of Gray, blocking out the sun with his mass.

"What'd you find?"

Gray blew out a lungful of smoke and winced when the wind took it to Briggs' face. The man's glower didn't improve. Gray dropped the butt and stamped on it. "We couldn't find any bodies. No evidence of any explosive device. Not much of anything, really."

Bacchus, the glory hog, swooped in and stole Gray's thunder. "Because of the _lack_ of evidence, we think it was a magical attack."

"Mages."

Gray pretended he didn't notice the scorn in Briggs' voice.

"Shortly after this place went up, a farmhouse on Tenth Sideroad suffered a similar fate. I have a report on three casualties so far; there might be more."

"Hell," Gray swore. "Whose farmhouse?"

Briggs said, " _That's_ the interesting thing. Before I came by, I got Miss Milkovich to do a bit of digging. The property belonged to one Mister Zancrow. He's been declared missing for two years, though, and I suspect he's likely dead."

"How's a dead man run his property better than I do?" Gray asked, thinking of the tractor still sunken in his pond. He hadn't the heart—or the time, really—to hook up a wire to his bumper and yank it out.

Briggs explained, "The property taxes have been paid for the next ten years, and the house is paid off."

"Sounds professional."

"Because it is."

Gray dug through his brain, wishing for Erza in that moment, she had an uncanny ability to file people's names and affiliations. She studied way harder than he ever did. "Zancrow… He was with Grimoire?"

Chief Briggs looked like he saw right through Gray's struggle and judged him for it every step of the way. "Yes, he was known to have ties to Grimoire."

"So Bristol was a swipe at Fernandez and Fernandez swiped back," Gray reasoned.

"Gold star, Mister Fullbuster, not that I think we can get the two to admit it." Briggs scrubbed his shiny head. "The scene's secured. Mister Fernandez is coming in to make a statement. I'd like for you to take it."

There were about a million other things he'd rather be doing. He couldn't think of a good excuse, though, and after getting caught leaving the Tudor outside Rose's last night, he was hoping contrite would work for him. "Yes, Sir."

Chief Briggs got in close and said, "Be thorough, boys. It's not very often we're thrown bones like this."

"Yes, Sir," Gray repeated.

"And brush your teeth, Fullbuster. You smell like you crawled out of a tavern. _Again_."

"Sorry, Sir."

Briggs left them there and Gray sagged against the car, still hungover enough that the world was spinning unpleasantly and his mouth was dry.

"Ha," Bacchus said cheerfully. "For once it's not me."

"Listen, today's going to suck enough without you being you, so just put a cork in it."

Bacchus patted Gray's shoulder. "Awe, come on, I'm only joshing."

Gray pushed him off and reached for the Tudor's door. Bacchus mimicked him, getting in the driver's seat. Once the doors were closed he said, "Cheer up, partner, I've got money on you."

"The fuck does that mean?"

"Oh, just a friendly bet amongst the boys," Bacchus said.

"What _kind_ of bet?"

Bacchus' eyes crinkled when he smiled. "Some of the guys think Briggs'll push you to quit."

"Who the fuck started that?"

Bacchus snorted and Gray had his answer. "I hate you," he said and rested his head against the window.

"It's all in good fun. Besides, I'm on your side. I said you'd stick it through. That's nice, huh? Freed put money on you bailing at the end of the _week_. A fair amount, too. When you make it through, Daddy's buying a round at Buchannan's."

Gray closed his eyes. "Just stop talking."

* * *

Laxus knew Jellal was capable of being petty when the time called for it. Business was business and when he got fucked, he fought dirty. It's what got him so far ahead. This, though, was a whole new level. It was outright war, what he was thinking.

He looked like a cool customer, though, flipping down his mirror and checking his hair and fixing his tie.

Laxus asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Oh, I'm sure," Jellal said and put the mirror back up.

"Because there's no coming back from this," Laxus pressed. "This is war."

"Yes, Laxus. It is," Jellal said smoothly. "She'll be in the Records Annex, and she told me that your girly was working front desk. You're going to have to figure out a way to get by her without any questions. Alright?"

Laxus heaved a massive sigh. "I'll figure it out."

Jellal threw open his door and Laxus fell into step behind him. People spotted them crossing the parking lot and looked. Laxus was used to it, he attracted attention on the daily, and usually, it didn't bother him any, but today felt different. Maybe he was just on edge. Whatever the reason for his adrenaline pumping, he put it to good use and monitored the parking lot. There was nothing much to look at except for Miss Belserion across the road, elbow deep with a hat vendor.

Upon entering the Constabulary, Mirajane looked up from the front desk. Lips painted pink got caught in a half-smile when she looked past Jellal and settled her gaze on Laxus.

"Hello, Miss Strauss," Jellal said after several long seconds had passed and she hadn't said a word.

"Mister Fernandez. Hi. Hello." She cleared her throat and stood. "Constable Fullbuster and Groh are expecting you. I was sorry to hear about your property. Glad that no one was hurt, though."

"Thank you."

"They're just here." Mira came around the desk. Today, she was wearing a black dress with red buttons. Her shoes, too, were tall and red. Laxus leaned against the Reception desk while Jellal followed her down the hallway toward the holding cells. Mira stopped just short, going for a door to the left, and knocked. Some words were said, and Jellal was ushered into the room. Mira closed the door again and smoothed her hands down her front before returning to the Reception. Laxus whistled and earned himself a frown.

"Why are you here, Mister Dreyar? Mister Fernandez is a big boy."

"He's worried for his safety," Laxus said. "I told him I'd watch for tricks."

"Kind of you."

"Nope. I just get paid a lot of bucks."

"How nice." Mira tried to sneak past him. He put out his arm and stopped her.

"You're looking awfully nice today."

"I look nice every day," she responded.

He plucked at her hair. "Did you get home alright this morning?"

Mira batted his hands away. " _Fine_."

"Tonight, you should tell your family you won't be home. You won't have to rush."

She laughed without humour. "Absolutely not."

"Why not? You don't want them to worry."

"No, I _mean_ , I'm not coming over tonight," Mira hissed.

"Why not? We had a good time last night."

She poked him in the chest with a pink nail. "I needed you for a service, Mister Dreyar. You performed it. That's all."

"Awe, Mira, baby, you make me feel like one of Buchannan's girls. And you didn't even pay me."

"Don't call me baby," she said.

"I like it when you get mad, though."

"Get bent," she said and again tried to slip by. Laxus caught her by the waist and pulled her up against him. "Mister Dreyar—"

Laxus kissed her, just a short and reasonably tame kiss. When he pulled back, Mira's cheeks were pink.

"I can't believe you did that."

"Would doing it again change that for you?"

"Mister Dreyar—"

He took a less decent kiss from her this time and was satisfied that she curled her fingers in his jacket and came up on her tiptoes. It was the kind of kiss that Laxus got wrapped up in. He forgot about the Constabulary and his mission. Then the door separating the bullpen from the reception opened and all of that came rushing back. Laxus kept his mouth where it was and counted down the seconds to explosion.

There wasn't long to wait.

"What the _fuck,_ Mirajane?"

Mira startled back, looking guilty, and focused on her monster of a brother. "Elfman."

Elfman Strauss had blood pressure problems if Laxus guessed. His whole neck went red and his cheeks, too. He was more civil than Laxus though he would be, though, saying, through gritted teeth, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Mira smoothed her dress. "Excuse me."

Laxus waited for the bullpen's door to close. Mira put her back against the door. Elfman's voice got loud. Mira's got louder. Laxus inched back a step and another. The door behind him opened and fingers snagged his sleeve and pulled him in. The door slammed and Laxus was surrounded by the smell of paper and ink and perfume. Ultear was a short and plumply curved ball of indignation and scorn.

"Smooth, idiot. You're lucky you didn't get punched in the face."

"Nice to see you, too, Ultear."

She rolled her eyes and reached between her elevated breasts. Out came an old-looking brass key. "Here."

Laxus hesitated in taking it from her. "Daddy's never going to forgive this." Jellal wouldn't see reason, maybe Ultear would?

"It's a little bit late to go back now. What's done is done."

"You and Jellal are both perfect for each other, you know that?" Laxus said. "Both fucking crazy."

She said, "Tell him it's the third door, everything's been taken care of. All he needs to do is get in there and make the call."

"Alright."

Ultear pushed him toward the door. "Quick, before your girlfriend comes out and sees you're where you shouldn't be."

Laxus opened the door a crack. The front desk was empty but he had to wait for a uniform to walk on by. When the coast was clear, he edged out into the hallway, putting that key in his pocket. The Records' door closed just as the bullpen's opened and Mira came out, red-cheeked and looking feisty. She put Laxus in her crosshairs and he thought she was about to put an end to a good thing. He stopped her in her tracks, saying,

"I'm going to Sentence Six tonight, 'round ten. A date'd be nice."

Mira faltered, clearly thrown. The statement room's door opened and Jellal came out, escorted by Bacchus Groh and whatever she'd been about to say fizzled completely.

"We'll do everything we can to get to the bottom of this," Groh was saying, and Jellal replied with something generic, a smile and a praise for the Magnolia Police Department.

Outside, the sun was low in the sky. Laxus relayed what Ultear said. Jellal smiled widely. "Did you get it?"

"Yep." Laxus opened the car door and dropped himself in.

"And you have a tux?"

"Sure."

Jellal smiled. "Let's go get ready, then."

* * *

There was something _invigorating_ about breaking into Chief Brigg's car and lounging in the backseat until he got out of work. It was _tedious_ work, yes, and _long,_ though she couldn't deny that it was _worth_ it when he came out of the constabulary, a rotund man scrubbing his bald head as he approached the car. Erza sank further into the backseat and greatly depended upon the growing shadows to hide.

Briggs got in, started his car, fixed his radio and started forward. He liked to sing as he drove, and tapped his stubby, round fingers on the steering wheel to keep time.

Erza waited until the Constabulary was two turns behind them to sit up. Briggs looked in his rearview mirror, perhaps hearing Erza's dress bag rustle, and started screaming. The car weaved heavily to the left, and heavily to the right as he struggled to get the gun from his hip. The person behind them honked.

"It's okay!" Erza rushed to say overtop of the music and the swearing and the yelling. "Chief, it's me. Erza. Relax. It's _Erza._ "

The moment that sunk in was almost a humorous one. Briggs' wide eyes remained wide and his ruddy cheeks puffed out. "You almost gave me a heart attack, Scarlet. Damnit."

"I'm sorry. You said find a way to contact you covertly. This was the best way I knew how."

He huffed. And huffed. "Okay."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." He adjusted his hold on the steering wheel. "Don't do that again. I almost shot you."

He didn't even get his gun out, so how could he be a danger, but she wasn't going to point that out.

He huffed again. "You're here. Do you have some information?"

"A little."

"Well, out with it, girl."

"Bristol was lit up by Gaebolg."

" _Precht_ Gaebolg?" Briggs asked.

"Yes. Of course. There's no one else in town with that name, is there?" Erza responded impatiently, earning herself a filthy look that didn't make her cower. She had all the dirt and he needed her. " _Anyway_. He attacked it while Jellal was there trying to do away with his father."

"Jellal was going to kill his old man?" Briggs asked.

"Yes. Acnologia admitted to him that he was involved with the killer."

Briggs looked downright excited. "Well, do we have a name?"

Erza burst his bubble. "No. From what I can tell, Jellal doesn't know who it is, either. Two of his men have gone missing, though, one of their heads was delivered right to him."

"That's bold."

"He hasn't said it but I think he's shaken," Erza said.

"I would be, too. What do they want from him?"

"I don't know. I don't think the head came with a note or anything."

"Hm." Briggs drummed his fingers faster.

"There's more. When I asked him how he was going to retaliate after Bristol, he wouldn't say exactly but he invited me to Sentence Six tonight."

"The gambling house?"

"Yes." She was almost bursting with excitement.

"Good work, Scarlet."

She beamed. "Thanks, Chief. What now?"

He thought about it. "I want you to go tonight. Hang off Mister Fernandez's arm, learn everything you can but _be careful_. You're still on your own."

"You won't send any backup in case something goes wrong?"

Briggs shook his head. "Too risky, if this doesn't pan out, I don't want your cover blown."

It was better this way anyway, Erza decided. It was more exciting when the stakes were higher. "That's fine."

"Where can I drop you off?"

She named a small park two kilometers from her house. It was dark and secluded and with any luck, there wouldn't be anyone there to see her sneak out of the Chief's car.

* * *

All of _Halo_ looked a little fatigued, up too long without enough sleep to keep it looking fresh. There were bits of dirt on the floor Jellal had never let accumulate before, rooms were opened and left that way. Most looked like they'd been tossed. Honestly, looking at the whole thing gave him a headache so it was a relief when Erza opened up the door in his office and entered.

The polka dots were gone, now she wore a long, black satin off the shoulders dress that was slit up the leg high enough that it wouldn't be too much effort for her to get her gun out. She'd gathered all of her hair up and put it in an impressive updo that Jellal longed to ruin. Around her throat was a band of glittering black stones.

"Am I appropriate?"

"No."

Erza look startled. "I went to the best shop in town—"

He put his mouth to her ear. "I mean that in the nicest way possible. You look fantastic. And distracting. How am I supposed to crush my enemies when you're stealing my attention?" He allowed himself to touch her throat and skimmed to her shoulder, then followed that down to her bicep.

"Oh." Erza tilted her chin just slightly. Jellal took a kiss from her. Her back curved and her hands knitted in his shirt and her breath buffeted his cheek in a short burst.

He kept her there long past what was appropriate and slid his palms down her arms. Just like before, she took his hands and put them on her body. She liked to be touched when she was kissed. Jellal kept it as civil as he was able, allowing himself only to linger at her hips and the cinch in her waist, squeezing her tightly to translate that he wanted her but stubbornly denied her when she offered more. It was a game that frustrated Erza but also one that would make her more receptive later.

He leaned back and looked at her mussed lipstick. There wasn't much saving it so he gave her the handkerchief from his pocket. "Sorry."

"I brought more." She daubed the red colour away from her mouth then used the mirror to fix her lipstick with a tube she pulled from her clutch. Jellal wiped his own mouth with the back of his hand and left the smear of red there. He liked the colour.

"We should get going, when you're ready, Miss Scarlet."

Erza returned and Jellal offered her his arm. Together, they exited _Halo_ through the stairwell that Gray had used and came out in the tiny office Jellal used for _Halo's_ restaurant business.

"How many entrances are there to this place?"

"A few." Eight, actually. Each either well hidden or guarded. He used to feel better about that when he _knew_ his guards but this new batch that Orga had scared up from the streets was a grotty bunch. Poorly hidden skids in suits. Didn't matter that their hair had been washed and combed, and their faces had been shaved and they had a proper meal and a roll of dough sitting in their pockets. They looked ragtag because they _were._

Jellal hated it. He hated that Precht had made him feel this way. And he was going to _ruin_ him for it. Ruin was a gentle word. When he was done, Precht wouldn't be able to show his face in public again.

Laxus met them by the front door. Like Jellal, he was in a tuxedo trimmed around his waist. He'd polished his shoes and slicked back his hair and armed himself with just one gun, it was hidden beneath his coat beside his suspenders but Jellal could tell it was Laxus _favourite_ gun, the one with the dragon stamped into the hand grip.

Jellal opened the back door for Erza and followed her in. Laxus took the driver's seat.

"What should we expect tonight?" Erza wondered as Laxus started the car and pulled away from _Halo_.

"Gambling, drinks, and a live band," Jellal told her.

Her brow shot up. "Is that all?"

"What else would it be?"

"Vandals, scandals, betrayals."

"You must think I'm a very wicked man."

"If you're not then what's the point of tonight?"

"A power play," Jellal said with just enough pride and just enough derision to be convincing. "I want to show Precht that I won't be cowed."

"And going to Sentence Six is going to prove that?"

"I don't think you understand. That gambling house is important to him," Jellal said. "When he's not a Grimoire, he's there. It's his pride. The only people that enter are those that are on the guest list." Or those that sneak their way in, of course.

"And you think that you'll still be on that list? After all this?" Erza scoffed.

"Absolutely. Another power play. Precht won't think that I'd dare."

"Don't you get _tired_ of this game of chicken?"

"Never."

"We're going to either get kicked out or we're going to be shot."

"I bet it's neither."

"You sound confident."

Jellal admitted, "Precht wants to humiliate me. I need to be alive for that, don't I?"

"That's an awfully big gamble."

Jellal nudged her. "You should know, Erza, a lot of police work is just working off intuition."

That got him silence. Erza folded her arms over her chest and took to watching the road. Jellal put his hand in his pocket and felt the edges of the long, brass key. It was more ornate than it needed to be; Precht was a man who enjoyed flare. Jellal could appreciate that.

The car turned and Sentence Six appeared. It was small, but it was posh, there was no denying that. The brick walls were choked with vines that were greening in the warming spring weather, the gardens were prepped for a flourish of flowers, doorways were illuminated with torch-style lights, and a concierge wearing a tux waited in their glow.

Laxus parked the car near the front. Jellal got out and gave Erza his hand. She accepted it, surprisingly, and allowed him to guide her up the walk to the front.

The concierge's smile was painted on, looking at Jellal, stiff and forced. "Mister Fernandez." The man's gaze shifted sideways toward the door, and back to Jellal again, and his fingers flexed in his gloves.

Jellal smiled. "Not a closed game tonight, I hope?"

There was a bit of hesitation and then, "I haven't heard that, Sir, no."

"Good." Jellal grabbed the door and pulled it open and stepped into a cacophony of sound and noise and golden light. Front and center was a huge craps table where five men, formally dressed, and four women in their best gowns, sat on stools and chatted until the dice were in the air, then they were holding their breaths. To the right was blackjack, the players focused either on the dealer or very much keeping their own company. To the left of that was roulette. They were a rowdy bunch, a girl in gold clapping and spinning when the ball fell on her number.

Erza pulled on Jellal's arm and scrutinized that last table. Laxus was the one that spoke, though. "I'll be. She showed. 'Suse me." He broke away and stepped in beside a now scheming Mira as she chose her next bet.

"I'm betting her brother doesn't know she's here," Jellal mused.

Erza seemed torn on the matter, stating, "She can go where she wants," but also looking concerned.

"Did you want to make sure she knows who she's tangoing with?"

Erza pinched her lips together, taking a step in that direction, and then faltering. "No. No, she's smart. She won't do anything foolish."

"Suit yourself." Jellal put his arm around her waist and coerced her toward the bar. "What do you say we get a drink play some games, then?"

She came back at him with, "Poker?"

He didn't want to be tied down to a game like that. It was involved. "Craps?"

"I don't know how to play that," Erza said.

"I'll teach you." He mimed two to the bartender and by the time they traded money for chips at the cash out stand and then arrived back at the dark wooden bar, there were two gin and tonics sitting on the surface.

Jellal passed one drink to Erza and took his own and brought her to the craps table. There were two stools available side by side in between a scantily clad Juvia, who had poured herself into a blue strappy and chained dress and had used magic to alter her appearance just slightly, her nose thinner, her cheeks rounder, her hair a shade darker, making it almost black, as she had on occasion before, and a man Jellal knew to be a council member.

He paid his money, placed his bets, explaining to Erza as he went. She was a quick study when she wasn't watching the game's players, Juvia in particular, and when Jellal's turn came to roll the die, she blew into his palm like a pro. Act or no act, Jellal felt the ropes she'd tied on him tighten.

By the fourth round, Jellal spotted someone that might have been Sting at the blackjack table, his features, like Juvia's, slightly changed, and Natsu over in roulette, wearing a suit and a hat that hid all of his bright and identifiable hair. Jellal hunted the crowd and thought he saw someone that sort of looked like Rogue being inconspicuous by some slots, dropping a dime in and spinning the wheel. Zeref wasn't as easy to spot. Jellal wasn't surprised. He kept looking. Laxus was by the bar, leaning into Mira and motioning outside. She tossed back her drink and took his hand and they left together.

Erza brought Jellal's attention back by placing her own bet.

Their drinks got refilled twice, the players changed slightly, Erza lost a lot of Jellal's money and then she won it all back. It was gone again in a blink. Jellal gambled everything he had on the next round and doubled. He felt untouchable as Erza clapped and jostled him in a way that was full of honest excitement. He kissed her. Her glow muted into something softer, a smile when he pulled back, a little cynical, a little wily, a touch of sweet.

The front door opened and cool spring air wafted into Sentence Six. Jellal kissed Erza again and this time felt her hand on his leg as she leaned into it. He led her along. It was easier than he'd planned, she seemed to forget herself, a little loose with alcohol, a little high off winning. He felt her hand wander all on its own and encouraged her tease him for a moment before he whispered into her ear,

"What do you say we cut out?"

"Our game, though—"

"We'll come back." He kissed her neck only partially to be convincing and held her hip, rubbing his thumb toward her middle. He just couldn't seem to help himself.

Erza started gathering up the chips on her own, which was good, the air was starting to get tense. They needed to move. Jellal picked up any remaining chips and added them to his jacket pocket. He then took Erza's hand and led her through the bustling building and into the hallway, kissing her against the hallway wall for good measure. It was more private down here between two paintings, where the lights were low and the noise was muted. It was easy to fall completely into the act, feeling her warm body beneath her satin dress, and the slip of bare skin in the slit of her skirt.

Erza bit his lip and Jellal was reminded that they needed to move. He pulled her along again, trying the first door and finding it locked—good—skipping the second, and going for the third. The latch came open as promised, and on the other side of the door was an extravagantly decorated office that just dripped of Precht's pretentious tastes. Jellal pushed the door closed again and locked it for good measure.

Erza looked around at the books and the bronze bust on the desk and the tall gold lamp that stood by the large double paned windows. "I don't think we're supposed to be in here."

"Who cares?" Jellal took her by the hip and backed her up so her butt was against the desk, and then he lifted her onto its surface. Erza looked uncertain. Her eyes fluttered closed with his mouth against hers and the look dissipated. Her arms were back around his neck and he was back to tracking her leg up, up to her leather leg holster. Erza spread and invited him in a little further. Jellal went _slow_. Not too slow, he wanted her thinking about _only_ this, but slow enough that her breathing feathered, she was so excited.

The room was professionally soundproofed but if Jellal _tried_ really, really hard, he could almost make out Sting telling the tellers to part with their cash and no one would get hurt. He could _almost_ hear Sting's magic _whooshing_ through the place when some dumbass thought he was a hero and tried to reach for the phone anyway.

Jellal pushed all of that from his mind, Erza was taking the hand on her leg and moving it up to her breast. Jellal skimmed the hardened peak with his thumb and moved on again to her great frustration. He did what he'd longed to all evening, and put his hand in Erza's hair, mussing it enough that tendrils drooped from the complex web of pins. It was easy to want to put both of his hands on her and see how generous she could be. Jellal denied himself the pleasure and did as Ultear instructed, behind Erza's back.

The bust moved silently, gliding back on pins and sliders. He peeked beneath his lashes as he worked, still kissing Erza, still very much aware of her fingers opening his jacket and moving beneath the straps of his suspenders, and lower, to the waist of his pants. She sighed and wiggled her hips and Jellal both pulled her forward and pushed into her. It was torturous.

The key slid into the lock effortlessly and he hid the sound of it turning by leaning Erza back over the desk. A jar of pens tipped over, papers got crushed, and the secret door behind the desk opened with a click and a sigh. It wasn't that sound that alerted Erza to the secret room, it was her bending backwards, arms over her head in a sensual stretch. Jellal regretted his actions thoroughly just then. He told himself when she zeroed in on the door and focused that there was no other way. It had to be done like this.

He tried to kiss her between her breasts. She pushed him back and stood.

"What is it?"

"I… I don't know."

Jellal waited for Erza's curiosity to flower and wasn't disappointed. She crossed the room tentatively and placed her hand on the door. She looked back over her shoulder before entering, though. "This is a secret room. Can you believe that? We must have pushed something." There was an excitement to her that brindled on childish. Jellal felt a pang of regret, this one for crushing her Nancy Drew moment.

Silent hinges brought the door open. Erza's breath arrested and the nails she'd meticulously painted red dug into the wooden doorframe. She was so absorbed that she didn't hear the dully roaring voices in the gambling room. Zeref must have made his escape.

"Well? What's in there?" Jellal came to her shoulder and leaned in.

Erza hadn't the breath to answer him. Jellal opened the door a little more so he could clearly see the mess Ultear had made. The old Records girl had been put in a wooden chair. She slumped back now with both hands loose at her side, her head back against the chair's headrest. A knife protruded from her eye.

Erza got her throat to work and found her calmness. "We need to call the police."

"Yes. Of course."

Erza unglued herself from her spot and picked up the phone from the desk. Jellal listened to her call the Constabulary and talk to the receptionist, calling her by name. She reported everything with efficiency, falling back on her training like a good Constable would.

While she spoke, Jellal sat in Precht's office chair. How long had it been since he'd occupied it and did he wonder if, when he'd sat in it last, it would be his final time? Not likely, which made this blow all the sweeter.

The phone dropped in its cradle.

"What did they say?" Jellal asked.

Erza breathed out. "They're already on their way."

"That was fast."

"Someone just called in a robbery."

It was amazing how stoic she was, all business as she took out her gun and opened the office door just a fraction. Jellal listened. There were voices out there in chaos. He could feel no magic, though, and there were no bullets, so he _assumed_ anyone in the Den that was getting out had gotten out already.

"What a coincidence."

Erza looked back over her shoulder, wearing a shrewd and, frankly, suspicious expression. "Yes. What a coincidence."

* * *

Gray was the first out of the car so he was the first to see the craps teller smoking furiously and standing, stiff as a board, by the door. There were other units there, taking statements and descriptions. Everyone unanimously agreed, the robbers didn't try to hide their identities, though no one could rightly identify them.

He moved into the gambling house with Bacchus on his heels. The place was a mess. No bullet casings littered the ground, but it looked as though a tornado had moved through. There were bills and chips everywhere, cards, spilled drinks.

A constable waited by one of the doors, his hat in hand. Bacchus slowed up to talk to him and Gray continued because he was led into an office by Erza's voice. He already _knew_ it was her that made the call and thought he mentally prepared himself. It still felt like he'd swallowed lead when he rounded the corner.

She was in a fine dress and her hair was a mess and there was high colour to her freckled cheeks. She looked like she was living the highlife, finding a murdered body, chewing on a mystery. Her date stood with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against a double paned window with a sombre look on his face. His clothes were equally mussed, his hair just as disordered as Erza's.

It burned Gray up for every petty reason he could think of.

"Who has access to this office?"

It took Gray a while to trace Briggs' voice to a small room off the main one. A torture room, by the looks of things, complete with a plethora of pain-inducing devices. Gray had never seen anything like it. Whips and clamps and diggers for getting into people's gums and doing horrible things.

He thought the place under Gajeel's house was bad. It had _nothing_ on this.

In the center of the room slumped on a wooden chair was the body of the MPD's old Records girl, a knife stabbed through her eye.

"Only Mister Precht, Sir. He's always been very strict about that." That was Sentence Six's manager if Gray had to guess, a thin man with messy black hair, dark makeup around his eyes, and in a suit.

Gray looked at Jellal and tried to dissect him with his eyes. "If that's true, how did you two get in here?"

Jellal said in a hollowed-out voice, "Like I told Mister Briggs, Erza and I were trying to get some privacy and the office door was open when I tried it."

"And you were so involved you didn't hear the robbery going on outside?" Gray heard himself ask.

Erza flushed. "We closed the door. Mister Midnight said the room is soundproofed."

"How lucky."

"What are you saying?" Erza dared in that hot-head way she had.

"I was just stating a fact," Gray retorted and moved on. "Was the interior room open like this when you entered?"

Jellal answered, "Not that we noticed."

Then what opened it?

Briggs came out of the room and put his arm around Gray's shoulders, leaning in to speak quietly. "I have a unit heading over to Grimoire now to pick Precht up and bring him in, our boys are about to lift fingerprints from that knife. This can be tied up neat and tidy, I feel it."

"Really?"

"We _knew_ Gaebolg was a scum. We'll count our lucky stars if this pulls through."

"Excuse me, Chief Briggs," Jellal interrupted. "If you don't need anything else from us, I'd like to bring my date home."

"Oh, no, I need a detailed report from you," Briggs said. "Fullbuster will take it."

Gray thought again that Briggs really was punishing him. He smiled tightly, though, remembering Groh's stupid betting pool, and tried to be professional, waving out into the main room. "We can go sit down."


	16. Chapter 16

Mira was a cool customer in the back of the car. She was a lady that knew what she wanted, of that, Laxus was certain. She gave him commands like she'd done it all her life and he performed them, everything from kissing her to petting between her legs to undoing his own pants and showing her how crazy she was making him.

He was likely making a fool out of himself. Laxus couldn't rightly find the self-respect to care.

She let him continue until Sentence Six started emptying of its customers and the air was filled with the strobing red and blue of police lights. Then she pushed him back with little regret and demanded, "What did you do?"

"Didn't like that?"

Laxus' facetious answer got him a glower. "Not _that,_ idiot. That was fine."

"Fine? You're hurting my feelings."

She looked like she wanted to hit him. "What did you do _inside?"_

"Did you not just have the same experience I did? I was out here all this time; how could I do anything?"

Mira lifted herself up and spied out the window. "My brother is here. Great."

"Guess we should just keep going until he isn't here anymore."

"Are you crazy?" she asked. "Or just stupid?"

"Smitten." Laxus tried to kiss her. She pushed him back and opened the door in one smooth motion. "Hang on," Laxus grabbed for her hand. "At least let me drive you home."

"I'll get there myself, thanks." She slammed the door in Laxus' face and drew the attention of several passersby, including her brother if that surprised grumble was anything to go off of. Mira said something to him that Laxus missed and approached a yellow cab that sat at the curb. She slammed _that_ door just as hard and the cab drove off.

The beam of a flashlight came Laxus' way and shined in the backseat, blinding him. He waved cheerily, unable to see who was on the other end of that beam but confident that it was Elfman Strauss all the same. The beam was dropped and the door was pulled open and sure enough, there was Mira's sullen brother, one hand resting on his hip by his gun, the other clenched tightly around the Maglite.

"Step out of the car."

"One second." Laxus sat back in the seat and fixed his pants and his shirt. He left the bowtie loose around his neck, he couldn't tie it without a mirror anyway and put on his shoes again. When he was done that, he stood and was promptly, and roughly, pushed against the car and forcibly searched.

"Hey now."

"Shut up."

"I don't think so—" Laxus pushed Elfman back just to be difficult and got knocked in the jaw for it. Elfman hit almost as hard as Kane did. Laxus saw stars and tasted blood. Some people in the crowd gasped. Elfman renewed his search, patting Laxus' sides and legs.

Laxus spat out a glob of blood. "What are you looking for? Maybe I can help find it?"

"Anything to put you away, dirtbag," came Elfman's scathing reply.

There was a perverse sort of pleasure that came from razzing the heat. "For?"

"How about for holding up Sentence Six?" Elfman suggested.

"I was out here for the last two hours, busy. I have an alibi; I think you saw her get out of the car—"

That got Laxus a shot in the gut. He bent over and sputtered, trying to get air and trying not to puke. From this angle, he saw Elfman's fist tighten up again and prepared himself for a hit that never came. Elfman's partner showed and took him by the elbow.

"People are watching."

The fist unclenched and strong fingers cinched in Laxus' shirt, forcing him upright again. Elfman looked like he could commit murder. "Stop whatever game you're playing with Mira or next time, I'll put you in the cruiser and take you someplace where people don't care what the cops do to people like you."

"People like me?"

"Criminals."

"That's an unfair assumption," Laxus said. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"I know a guy that was doused in gasoline that'll say different," Elfman snapped.

"A misunderstanding."

He was once more pushed back against the car so hard, Laxus' breath left his lungs. He thought Elfman was going to hit him again but Elfman was sidetracked by a reporter brandishing his camera and snapping a blinding photo.

"Hey!"

"Can I get a statement, Constable Strauss? Is this the man responsible for the robbery?" the reporter chirped.

"No, you cannot get a statement. Get out of here." Elfman waved him off and the reporter scampered away. Then he looked at Laxus and seemed to be at a loss.

Elfman's partner nodded to the crowd. "Come on. Briggs said we had to get statements from the people who were inside."

Laxus thought the partner was about to get hit, too, but Elfman seemed to find some self-restraint, now knowing that the media was there. Together, they left Laxus alone and approached Sentence Six's doors, and thusly a group of elderly people smoking and talking in hushed voices.

Laxus leaned back against the car and pulled a weed from his pocket. He smoked it all the way to the filter despite the pain in his jaw, then lit another, watching the people slowly leave the parking lot. The coroner arrived. Twenty minutes later, paramedics came out with a body on a gurney, zipped up in a body bag. Forty minutes after that, when the clock struck one-o-five, the time when the MPD's nighttime girl got up to make herself coffee, according to Ultear, Laxus went to the payphone and stepped inside the plated glass housing.

Ultear had come through again and picked up on the second ring. "Magnolia Police Department, how may I direct your call?"

"Any news?"

"The unit that went to his house was shot up as soon as they tried to bring him in," she reported succinctly. "Two cops are dead; the other two is in the hospital."

"Precht?"

"Looks like he's on the run."

Just like Jellal had predicted.

"Good." Laxus looked at Sentence Six's entrance and saw Jellal and Erza exit. "Gotta run."

"Wait," Ultear spoke lowly. "Tell Jellal to be careful. It won't be long before Daddy knows who set him up."

"That means watch your own back, too."

"I got it covered," Ultear said.

Laxus dropped the receiver in place and met Jellal by the car. "All finished up?"

"Yes. Let's drop Miss Scarlet off at her home," Jellal said. "It's been a long night."

Erza looked frazzled and suspicious, eyeing Laxus and then Jellal as if she could see through them. She didn't interrogate them, though. Laxus suspected she already knew the answers to her burning questions.

Their drive went by quietly, Erza asking only, "Did Mira do that to your face?"

"Her charming brother," Laxus said back. "Guess he didn't like Mira in the back seat."

She harrumphed like she was disappointed but didn't speak again.

"Nine again tomorrow, Miss Scarlet?" Jellal asked when they'd pulled into her driveway.

She got out without a response. Laxus said, "I don't know if she'll come back."

"She will," Jellal said confidently. "She's too curious to stay away." He sat forward and tapped Laxus' cheek while Laxus got the car back onto the road. "The heat, huh? Cost of doing business, I guess."

"I guess. I called Ul. She said Precht's boys shot up the cops that tried to come pick him up. He's gone underground." Laxus looked in the mirror and saw Jellal grinning ear-to-ear.

"Good."

"Ultear also said to watch your back."

"I imagine."

With that in mind, Laxus pulled the car right up to the alley beside _Halo_ , illuminating the brick walls and concrete with the headlights. Nothing moved and there were no dumpsters to hide behind, so he felt it safe to turn off the car. Before getting out, he took his gun out of the glovebox and kept it in his hand while he followed Jellal down the alley, past the ugly skull mural, and into the secret door that led into Jellal's office.

"Have a drink with me," Jellal said.

Laxus did because he pulled out the good stuff.

* * *

Bacchus, for once, was quiet in the passenger's seat. They hadn't been partners for very long, but Gray decided that he didn't like when Bacchus was mute. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

At least he didn't give Gray the runaround. "I think we should talk to Meredy again."

" _Why_?"

"Because in case you didn't notice, there is _unrest_ in the streets. She has connections and will know what's going on."

"Not that she'll tell us."

"She'll spill," Bacchus said confidently. "She likes me. Come on."

Gray checked the time. It was approaching two thirty. He sighed and made a left to take them back toward Meredy's apartment. Like before, he pulled around the back and parked mostly in the wild grape vines. He parted with his gun, his jacket and his tie, everything that marked him as a constable, and got out.

Despite the late hour, there was music pouring out of the apartment upstairs, upbeat jazz. Red light shone on the alley's bricks and illuminated their way up the rickety metal stairs. Bacchus took the honours of knocking on her door.

When it opened, Meredy filled the doorway, wearing a pair of high heels, tight, tight jeans, and an off-the-shoulder shirt. She was also sporting a lazy grin that slipped some when she saw her company. Out she came on the metal stoop; Gray felt the grate wobble beneath her added weight and prepared for the worst that never came. The door closed behind her.

"You're going to have to leave."

"We will, but first we need to ask a few questions," Bacchus pleaded.

"No," she hissed. "I told you everything I know. I can't help you anymore."

"We didn't come here about the murders," Gray pushed. "Sentence Six was hit up tonight."

"I heard on the radio. It's a gambling house. Money goes missing from them all the _time._ I don't know anything."

"Come on, Meredy," Bacchus wheedled. "You know _something,_ you always do."

"Read my lips. _Nothing._ "

"Alright," Gray said. "What about the girl that was found in that secret room in Precht's office? Geraldine Morden?"

"What about her?"

"Any thoughts on why Precht might be interested in the Constabulary's old Records girl?"

She shrugged. "You tell me. What kind of information did she have available to her? Is that the kind of thing someone like Mister Gaebolg might be interested in?"

Possibly. It didn't sit right with Gray, though. "She wasn't tortured." Just stabbed through the eye. "Can you ask around? See if anyone knows anything?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No, because I'm going to tell you everything you need to know right now," Meredy said lowly. "There is a war going on, and that girl was an unfortunate casualty. Sometimes, that happens. It wasn't a malicious act, it just _was_." She started to back up, reaching for the door.

"For a girl that doesn't know anything, you sound pretty confident," Gray said.

"You don't have to be in the know to read between the lines, Constable Fullbuster, just smarter than a pea. Leave this alone and you might not be gunned down in the street." She opened the door and slipped inside before Gray could respond. He huffed.

"That was a fucking waste of time."

"I disagree." Bacchus clopped down the stairs. "I think she gave us pretty good information."

"She gave us _nothing_." Gray kept his voice low so it didn't echo off the alley.

"Read between the lines. She told us that Geraldine Morden's death wasn't a malicious act. It was just a way of making everyone look in a certain direction."

"In Precht Gaebolg's direction."

"You got it."

"So you think he was set up."

"That knife's going to come back with his fingerprints on it, I guarantee, but I don't think he stabbed it through Miss Morden's eye."

"Then it was Fernandez," Gray reasoned once he'd entered the car. "It had to be. That son of a bitch. He set Gaebolg up, made him retreat underground after his place on Bristol was blown up."

"I'd bet money on it. Good luck pinning it on him, though." Bacchus took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and sparked one up, cracking the window just an inch.

"Why Miss Morden, though? She didn't do anything to anyone, _ever._ She was a shut-in."

"Maybe it was done to antagonize the MPD?"

"Why her, though, and not someone else? A current employee would have worked better. A cop or hell, even one of the girls. Ultear is the records keeper now…" He trailed off, remembering his conversation with Erza days and days ago.

"What's that look mean?"

"Before she was fired, Erza told me that Fernandez had a plant in the MPD. Miss Morden suddenly disappearing would have been a good opportunity for one of his people to come in."

Bacchus adapted to the idea easily. "How much do we know about Ultear?"

Gray rolled through a green light and the Constabulary came into view. "She likes to ride horses."

"You spend a night with a girl and that's all you know?" Bacchus teased.

"She told me that her first day on the job," Gray countered.

"So you haven't done much talking since then, is what you're saying."

"Shut up." Gray pulled the Tudor around the back of the Constabulary.

"No, I'm proud of you, partner. Nothing slows you down. Scarlet tries to cut the head off the old snake and you're back out there the next day showing her it can't be done."

Gray threw the car into park and got out, using long steps to take him inside. Bacchus kept pace.

"If I had that firecracker, I'd jump right on, too, and we sure wouldn't do much talking. One question, though, what's she see in you, huh? I offered to take her out on a date and she showed me the curb. I don't get it, I'm a good-looking guy."

"You talk too much," Gray suggested. "Try being silent."

"Hardy har har."

"Eight tomorrow," Gray said before Bacchus could slide into the locker room.

"Do you know how to sleep in?"

"Nope. Be here."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled and disappeared. Gray took the keys to the front desk where Levy sat with a wet-cheeked Ultear.

Gray set the keys on the counter; Levy stopped patting Ultear's back to take them and to shoot Gray a look that was hard to misconstrue. She was in over her head. Ultear hiccupped quietly. Gray reticently asked, "What's going on?"

Levy waited for Ultear to say something but the only thing Ultear did was sniffle loudly. Levy supplied, "She's scared to go home after what happened to Miss Morden. She won't go home."

"What if someone's there waiting for me?" Ultear choked out.

Gray tried to remain cool and objective after his and Bacchus' conversation. It was hard. Ultear looked genuinely upset. "Why would someone be waiting for you?"

"Someone called here looking for her," Levy supplied again. "I gave her the phone and—well…" There was a recorder beside the telephone for tracking incoming calls. She hit play and a deep and distorted voice came out of the machine and said simply,

 _'I hope your affairs are in order.'_

"That sounds like it is being manipulated."

"That's what I thought, too. I didn't notice it at first, though," Levy replied. "When I answered, I just thought they had a deep voice."

"Do you recognize the speaker?"

Ultear shook her head minutely. "No. But they want to do to me what they did to Miss Morden, I know it."

"I'll look into it."

She lifted her eyes. "You will?"

"Yeah. But right now, let me drive you home."

"Did you hear me? What if they're _there_?" Her voice was wobbly and loud, attracting the attention of the few people that still lingered in the Constabulary, Constables and a few family members of renegades that got picked up off the street that was now waiting for processing.

Gray dropped his voice. "I'll check your apartment. Come on, now. It'll be safer there than here. You can't lock these doors."

Ultear looked around the Constabulary as if suddenly positive that everyone inside was an enemy. She stood and marched out of the Constabulary so fast, Gray had to jog to keep up, catching her in the parking lot just as the Constabulary door banged closed again. "Hang on."

"You said it wasn't safe."

"Okay, well wandering out here by yourself isn't, either."

"You're right." Ultear stopped and turned on her heel. Gray almost ran into her, catching himself by grabbing her shoulders and stumbling back. "God. What if my apartment isn't, either? God," she said again. "God." Her next breath was noisy. She seemed better when she expelled it. "Sorry. I'm never this much of a mess. I just need to relax."

And by that, she meant she needed to dig through her purse and pull out a cigarette. She struck her lighter three unsuccessful times. Gray took it from her and lit it. Ultear sucked in a lungful of smoke and blew it out again twice. "Thank you."

Gray returned her lighter. "You know, it could have been a crank call. We get them every now and again." More often than not, actually. People thought it was funny to send the police death threats or to get them to chase their tails.

"Do you think so?"

"Maybe." Briggs had told the media before they left that it was Miss Morden found. One of the citizens listening could have been angry or trying to get a laugh. "Come on." Gray took out his keys and opened the passenger's door for Ultear. She undid the window before she climbed in, to let the smoke out. Gray got in the driver's seat and cranked over the engine. It started reluctantly. They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the engine run and Ultear smoke and sniffle occasionally.

Ultear broke the quiet. "Are we just going to sit here?"

"No. I was just thinking."

"What?"

"If you don't want to go home, we can go back to my place."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "If it was a real threat, do you really want trouble on your doorstep?"

Oh. Trouble was already there; her first name was Ultear. "I'd feel better knowing that you were safe."

"You're the boss."

Gray fought with the truck until it was in gear. Ultear finished her cigarette and did up the window. She turned to face him and put her head back against the glass, her legs folded and her dress fluffed out over her knees. "I was worried about you; you know?"

"Were you?"

"I heard what happened to those cops that went to go pick up Mister Gaebolg and I kept thinking, what if that was you?"

"I was dispatched to Sentence Six."

"Levy told me that."

"Then why would you worry?"

She plucked at the fabric of her dress. "I don't know. Stupid, I guess. Then I got that call and I stopped thinking about you all together. Guess I'm stupid and selfish."

Gray shook his head. "No, Ultear. You were just scared."

She gasped a fake laugh and looked out the window again. Gray kept trying to steal glances at her whenever they went past a streetlight. Did she _look_ like Fernandez's plant? He couldn't tell, she just looked worried to him, there gnawing on her lip. "Why were you at the Constabulary so late?"

"Mister Briggs asked me to file the ME's findings on the last headless guy that was brought in."

"Dark stuff," Gray said.

Ultear said, "I try not to go through the files any more than I have to. I want to sleep at night. Anyway. Then I got that call and I didn't want to go home."

The hedgerow on either side of his long driveway was illuminated by the headlights. Gray drove the truck over potholes and a small culvert that guided a trickling river through it, bringing it as close to the front door as he possibly could, setting the wheels on the grass, and then got out and held the door for Ultear to slide over the bench seat and exit with him. She stuck close to his side and watched the night for anything and everything she didn't like, jumping at the sound of the next door neighbour's cattle mooing. She laughed. Upon sobering, she said,

"Who the fuck leaves a cow out at night? And what kind of cow moos in the dark?"

"Welcome to the country."

His front door opened with a croak and the familiar scent of home washed over him. Gray set his keys and his wallet on the stand by the door while he waited for Ultear to lock up. She took off her coat, revealing the hot pink dress she wore beneath. She took her hat off her head, too, and dropped both items on the coatrack beside the door. She kicked off her shoes last, before noticing Gray was watching her.

"What?"

"Here." Gray took his spare gun from his ankle holster and gave it to her. "Hang on to this while I go check the place?"

Ultear took the gun like she was grabbing a deadly snake. "Do you really think there's going to be someone here?"

Gray remembered the last time the Den snuck into his barn and took him hostage. "Anything's possible." He didn't show her where the safety was in case of accidents; who knew what her aim was like? "Don't shoot anyone. Just point it at them and call for help."

"I'm going to shoot someone if they attack me," she told his retreating back.

Of course, she would. "Whatever. Just don't shoot me."

The basement was clean, full of an old freezer, a gun cabinet, loads and loads of old, rusty tools and some bib overalls, insulated and non, and that was it. The main floor had Ultear, some stuffed couches, the kitchen, from which Gray stole a beer out of the fridge on the way by, and his telephone. The upstairs was just as uninspiring. Bedrooms, washroom and sewing room all in tact.

Gray called from the top of the stairs, "We're good."

It seemed Ultear had already decided that. She'd set down his gun and had taken off her pink coat, stripping to the lace and satin black top she wore beneath. The coat she threw onto the pile with her other outerwear. She padded across the room in her bare feet to the fridge. Gray heard another beer open up. Ultear came back into view and ascended the stairs.

She edged past him and showed her way into his bedroom where she flopped down on his messy, unmade bed with a sigh. "Thanks for letting me come here."

"No problem."

"Some people wouldn't have done the same."

"Sure they would."

She set her beer down on the bedside table so she could stand again and step into him. "They may have driven me home, checked my apartment for me. But not this. This was sweet."

She rose on tiptoe to kiss him. Gray moved his lips slowly. She still tasted like cigarettes, but now also like alcohol. She tried to lift his shirt up. Gray stopped her.

"What is it?"

"I want to know more about you, Ultear."

She smiled. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"That's boring."

"I don't think so."

"Alright. If you insist. My favourite colour is blue. I have a horse named Harvey that my paycheque barely pays for, I like fancy things, nice cars, nice clothes, nice jewelry, and men that look good in suits. I live in a shitty little hovel because of all those nice things I like, I have a temper and I am sometimes a liar—"

"Like when?"

"I told Chief Briggs that I had a load of experience before coming to the MPD but—" She shook her head.

"What other secrets can I expect?"

"That's pretty much it."

"I don't believe that."

Her smile turned toothy. "Very well. I like men with guns. Sometimes when they have badges and sometimes when they don't. My first week at the Constabulary Sherry Blendy and I went out for drinks. I kissed her. It was nice but I wished it was Mirajane, she's pretty."

"Why would you do that? Kiss her, I mean."

"Because sometimes, I like women, too." Her fingers had curled in Gray's waistband.

"You do?"

"Is that a problem?"

"I—no. I don't suppose." A little odd, but everything about Ultear was that way.

Her voice turned breathy and she rose on her tiptoes again. "Good."

"What else, Ultear?"

"I am mean," she added. "Sometimes, even to people I like."

It seemed she was going to make him work for everything. "What about your past?"

She fell to the flats of her feet again. "What about it?"

"Tell me about where you grew up," Gray nudged. "What were your parents like?"

"My mother died when I was young."

"Sorry to hear that."

She shrugged like it didn't matter, though it clearly bothered her. "A rich man adopted me."

"So what? That doesn't make it better or easier."

Her smile turned depreciative. "No. No, it doesn't, does it? Everyone always said it did, though, so I've been telling myself the same thing for years. Truth is, he was a bastard."

"In which way?"

"He was always calling me names whenever I didn't do something he liked. It doesn't sound like much but it wears on a person, grinding you down and down until you feel like you have nothing left."

There were times when people were stripped to their bare skin and you could see them in their entirety. This was one such moment. Ultear had walked away from the confident girl and laid out her insecurities.

"When I was old enough, I left home and hacked it on my own, for the most part. I've talked to him a couple of times since then, once for money because I was laid off from my last job and couldn't afford rent, which he gave to me but held over my head for a year, and once for his sixtieth birthday, just to be cordial." She splayed her hands out, palms up. "And now you know. I'm not mysterious or interesting, I'm just like everyone else."

And it killed her some. "You're not just like everyone else." Gray fingered a lock of Ultear's dark, dark hair. "You're not like anyone else, actually."

Ultear rolled her eyes. "Mmhm."

"I'm serious." As a heart attack.

Ultear bit her lip. "You're a nice guy, Gray."

"You know what they say, be kind, the world will reward you."

"The only thing the world does to nice boys is spit them out after a thorough chewing." Ultear put her arms around Gray's neck and pulled him in so she was whispering in his ear. "The best you can hope for is sharp teeth."

"How are yours?"

"Ra _zors_." She punctuated that with a nip at his jaw. Just that simple action and he was hard.

Ultear had a playful and sinister laugh when she felt him pressing into her leg. She slid her face against his and took a kiss that made Gray forget completely about everything. He tasted her tongue and her lipstick and her cigarettes and felt for the clasp holding her skirt up after she started pulling on his belt. She helped once Gray's pants were undone, brushing his hands aside and doing it so much faster.

Her skirt fell to the floor, leaving her in a pair of underwear that matched her shirt, black lace and satin. Her bra, Gray found, was much the same, the material thin and see-through and he decided that he very much liked it that way, it made it easier to feel her hard nipple on his tongue when he kissed her. She bent her back like a bow and fell away, down, onto the mattress that Gray didn't remember pushing her against.

Before joining her, Gray took a moment for appreciation. She wasn't like Lucy and she wasn't like Erza. She was darker. Physically, yes, her hair fanned out, black and glossy and sweet-smelling, but it went deeper than that. It was her eyes that really gave her away, they hid a pit of sin that made him want to discard the cross he wore around his neck and find out what lay at the bottom.

She invited him to, lifting her hips up to remove her underwear and undoing her front-clasping bra. He made sure he was a better lover than the last time they were together. Soberness helped, steps away from self-depreciation helped, too. Erza and her ill-fated date were far from his mind.

Gray dropped to his knees and pulled her to the edge of the bed. She propped herself up on her elbows to watch. He went slow and steady, open-mouth kissing her like he would anywhere else, using his tongue to make her sigh, and then drop back to the bed. She had put away the filthy talk from last night and clammed up. At first, Gray thought she didn't like it, but looking up her quivering form said something else entirely. Her chest rose and fell in short gasps and her skin was reddening. She grabbed her breasts harder than he ever would have dared and moaned. He kept doing exactly as he was and she eventually came, long after his tongue ached from his patient ministrations.

His reward was a wet kiss and a position reversal, in the middle of which Ultear stripped him of his shirt and pants and his underwear before straddling his hips. Gray pushed into her behind. Ultear proved herself to be just as patient as he could be, thoroughly kissing him, first his mouth while she wiggled her hips and teased him with places he hadn't ever been teased with before, and then she kissed his chest and then his cock. Each press of lips was well-placed to make him harder than he'd ever been before.

Only when he'd thrown away the patience he'd entered with, only when he was gathering up her hair and holding her steady, arching into her waiting mouth with a franticness that made him both ashamed and crazy, did she push away his hands and sit up straight. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were bright. Gray summed her up completely then. There was nothing in this world Ultear liked more than to feel powerful, and just then, he didn't think she'd ever felt that way more.

"Condoms?" she asked even as she crawled up his body and slid her hips back again, forcing him to feel how wet she was. Gray bit his cheek hard to keep himself thinking rationally and reached overhead to go through his bedside drawer. There was a gun and a book and a book of matches. He stretched further, rubbing against Ultear again. She moaned and Gray forgot about the condoms momentarily, choosing rather to take Ultear by the hips and force her forward and backwards over his shaft. She slapped his hands away.

"Condoms."

"Yeah." Gray went back to searching. Ultear went back to rocking her hips. It was fucking distracting, hearing her moan, feeling her wetness and her entrance when she slid up too high. Gray started tearing things out of his drawer, lifting himself up when he could reach no further. Ultear bent forward and kissed his neck. Her breath was hot, hot, hot, giving him chills and making everything tighten.

There.

There was the metal tin of condoms. He pulled them out victoriously. Ultear plucked them out of his hand and did everything else, Gray's only part was to hold her hips when she was through and to slam into her when she'd allow for her steady pace to be interrupted. Her hair coiled against her chest, dark ropes, her nails dug into his arm. Her teeth, when she leaned forward and sank them into his lip, were, in fact, sharp as razors. His pained hiss seemed to be her pleasure. She held his face between her palms and kissed him forcefully. Gray held her hips tighter and lifted into her faster. Ultear moaned on his tongue and her breathing faltered and her body opened up for him and then tightened. Her orgasm brought on his own seconds later.

Gray slowed to a stop and Ultear pulled away, sitting up completely and then standing and going to the washroom. Gray listened to the door close, water run. It was several moments before he felt coordinated enough to take off his condom and drop it in the waste bin next to the bed.

Ultear returned and Gray took her place in the washroom, where he peed when he could and washed himself up. Upon returning to his bedroom, Ultear was back in his bed, between the sheets now and still totally nude. There was a cigarette smouldering between her fingers, the scent of smoke on the air. Usually, it burned his nose but just then, it smelled sweet. Gray laid down beside her. She moved over so there was no space between them, her cheek on his chest. When she drew on her cigarette, Gray could feel the heat from the cherry on his skin. It was almost uncomfortable but he didn't want to move.

"Thanks again for letting me stay here. I know you probably don't want to be thinking about people knocking on my door when you're in the middle of a murder investigation."

"I don't mind," Gray told the ceiling. "Besides, someone threatened you."

"Do you think its all connected? The threats, Miss Morden, the attacks on the buildings and the decapitated gang members?"

"I'd bet on it." Magnolia was never _quiet_ before but it had never been this insane.

Ultear drew on her cigarette again, and again, Gray felt the cherry almost burning him. "Do you have any leads on your killer?"

"Nothing concrete. A necklace that may or may not be related, blood splatter, whispers of a witness that's too afraid to come forward."

"How do you know you have a witness if they're too afraid to step forward?"

"I have an unreliable source," Gray said.

"Really? That's good."

"Unreliable," Gray said again. "They won't help any more than they already have because they're afraid of putting their neck on the line. At the end of the day, I'm still in the same boat. I have nothing concrete, and I don't even know where to begin to look to find anything."

"I heard the medical examiner say It's not so easy to decapitate a body," she told him. "It would take a lot of force. A lot of strength. Most men wouldn't be able to do it in one go. They'd need a couple of swings. But the bodies that have been coming in are all done tidy like a guillotine did it. I don't know of many guillotines in Magnolia so the most logical explanation is—"

"Magic," Gray supplied.

"My thoughts exactly."

"There are lots of mages in Magnolia, though."

"Not many powerful enough or brazen enough to challenge Mister Fernandez or Mister Dragneel and his dragon slayers."

"So what does that leave me with? Nothing. There are _hundreds_ of people with magic and _none_ are going to step forward once I start asking them to."

"I might know of a way to narrow your search," Ultear said leadingly.

"What do you mean?"

Ultear sat up and stabbed her cigarette out in an ornamental plate Gray had on his dresser for decoration. "There's a locker in the Records Room that only Chief Briggs has access to. When I first started, Levy told me it had a profile on every magic user in Magnolia and they were delineated by _class._ "

"Class?"

"Strength," she said.

"If it's true, how do we have that information?" Gray wondered. "There's no way anyone would _volunteer_ that."

She tapped her nose. "Mum's the word. When Chief Heartfilia was sliding off the rails—again, according to Levy—he had some guy with this weird archiving magic compose a list of every mage that stepped foot in Magnolia's borders. It's all sitting in that cabinet, everything we need to make our list. You just have to get it open."

"Me?"

She winked. "You, Maker boy. You just need to make a key."

* * *

The Den had come in through _Halo's_ back entrance an hour after Laxus and Jellal got back. A party with no moderation ensued. It began with alcohol and turned to drugs and ended with Juvia in very little clothing, and her partners, Sting and Rogue, getting to be much the same way.

Laxus wasn't the first to excuse himself, Wendy was gone long before Juvia's dress slipped down her shoulders, and Natsu and his girl followed shortly after, Zeref was collected by a sober Angel. Jellal looked steadfast in his position on his chair, a tumbler of something amber in his hand and a wide grin on his face. He didn't watch the orgy in progress, his eyes were on the television where a reporter stated that police were pursuing Precht Gaebolg in the murder of Miss Geraldine Morden. Nothing else seemed to matter.

Laxus began to stand from his spot beside a molested Sting and was grabbed and kissed by wet-mouthed Juvia. He let it happen, it was easier that way, and when she released him, he pushed her back toward Sting and got the hell out of there. Money that had been thrown around bent beneath his shoes. He dragged some with him into _Halo_ 's halls and even onto its balcony, some had gotten stuck in his jacket. Now it belonged to the air, picked up by the wind and whisked out into the lightening parking lot.

Laxus lit a cigarette and leaned against the balcony, watching the sky taint purple with sunlight. The air was alluringly warm and on it was the fading sounds of the Den's revels.

That and the sound of feet pounding over the pavement. Harried breaths. Someone saying, _"Get away from me!"_

Laxus searched the parking lot and zeroed in on a small figure ducking between one of Jellal's cars. They were pursued by someone much larger, that reached and reached, catching up with their quarry. Magic came, a burst of wind that knocked out the window of Jellal's black Lincoln Continental, and threw the pursuer some distance. What Wendy was doing out there, Laxus didn't know, nor did he know who chased her, though he had an idea.

The second balcony was far enough from the ground that he could drop over its side and feel his legs pang, the bones protesting, but close enough that he could still move afterwards. He pulled his gun as he did so, closing in on Wendy.

To Wendy's right, another person stepped out of the shadows, male and tall and broad. They grabbed her from behind and started pulling her away. Wendy screamed and kicked, writhing. She slipped out of their arms, too wily to hold still, and started to run. First toward the woods, and then in Laxus' direction when he called her name.

Her eyes were wide and her steps too fast to be coordinated. She reached for Laxus and her attacker reached for her. Laxus raised his gun and squeezed off a round. There wasn't anything wrong with his aim, he didn't think, but the guy he shot at didn't go down. He fired again, and again.

Sound _warped_ , that was the best way he could describe what happened next. His gunshot muted, the ground _bent_ weirdly, and then the air changed, like all of the pressure was sucked out of it.

Suddenly, he felt sick, topsy-turvy and disoriented. To back up to catch his balance was to step into someone. He tried turning. Something hard met his temple and Laxus saw blackness.


	17. Chapter 17

The smell of coffee greeted Erza when she woke, and the sound of the radio.

She stared at her ceiling and listened to the host talk about the goings on at Sentence Six last evening. It felt like finding that body was a thing someone else did, her memories were segmented and fractured between first lust then surprise and lastly, adrenaline. It had been a rollercoaster.

Eventually, the radio man started talking about the baseball game. Downstairs, the front door opened and closed. A second later, the phone rang. And rang. And rang. Erza pulled herself out of bed and crossed the hallway to pick it up in her mother's room.

"Hello?"

"Erza?"

Erza checked the ornate clock on her mother's nightstand. It was seven in the morning. Early for Jellal, especially after the night they had. And he sounded surprisingly stressed. She forgot about her suspicions and her anger at being kept in the dark. "What is it?"

"I need you here."

"Why? What happened?"

"Laxus was taken early this morning."

Her attention sharpened. "Alive?"

"He was when he left, I don't know now."

Erza looked out the window and saw her mother in the driveway leaning into the Skylark. She pulled out a brown paper bag and some clothing then started back toward the house again. "Was it Precht?"

"Who else?"

Her stomach exploded with nervous butterflies. "You want my help to hit him back?"

"Right now, I need to have a meeting and I need someone with a clear head. Can you come or _not_?"

Angry about his snotty tone or not, she couldn't pass up the chance to sit in on one of his meetings, could she? "When?"

"As soon as you're able."

She checked the clock again. "Give me an hour." At least.

"Hurry." Jellal hung up. Erza dropped her receiver down, too.

Eileen re-entered the house. Erza descended the stairs listened to her bustle in the kitchen, rustling bags, water, closing drawers.

Upon entering the kitchen, she glanced at the table where her mother had set her belongings. There was the paper bag from the car, the clothing, strewn—a pair of slacks her mother rarely wore and a jacket. And beside that was, of all things, was a revolver.

Erza touched it without thinking, fingering the stylized dragon on the handgrip. Sit was familiar. She placed the gun on Laxus' hip the night before.

 _Can't be._

It was, though. _Why_ she couldn't say, but this was Laxus' gun. Absolutely.

"Momma?"

Eileen didn't appear immediately so Erza followed the sound of running water into the laundry room where she found Eileen with her back to Erza, heavy scarlet hair braided and swinging between her shoulder blades as she cleaned something long and silver. She paused and tilted her head. Erza felt the air prick with something both strange and familiar. Silver disappeared into thin air.

Eileen didn't turn as she said, "You're up early. Did the radio wake you?"

Any questions Erza had of Laxus' gone fled her mind. "What was that?"

"What?"

"What you just did. Was that magic?"

Eileen silently went to the laundry sink and turned off the running water, then she dropped a red-stained cloth into the basin.

"Answer me, mother. Was that magic? And what were you holding?" She knew what it _looked_ like but swords didn't _have_ a place in Magnolia.

Eileen finally turned. The undershirt she wore had been torn at the collar and there was a mark on her bicep like someone had grabbed her too hard. "Yes, it was magic."

Erza felt like she'd been kicked by a horse. "Since when could you do magic?"

Eileen said simply, "Always."

 _Always_. And she'd always lied about it. "You never said anything."

"It was neither necessary or safe for me to do so." Eileen pushed past her into the kitchen. Erza remained where she was and watched her mother pick up the gun.

"That's Laxus'."

"Yes." Another rift in space opened and the weapon disappeared completely. Eileen looked at her, expecting more. "Don't you have more questions?"

Erza tangled her fingers into the hem of her nightshirt. "Momma…"

"Go ahead. Ask me." She sounded dangerous and completely different.

Erza couldn't, she couldn't ask because she didn't want to know; the thin veneer that glossed her life, that kept her mother being an _escort_ and not a _whore_ , that kept her as a woman of principles and not a woman lies, that made her _mother_ and not a _killer,_ was peeling faster than Erza could repair and she wasn't ready.

Eileen was a bloodhound, sensing Erza's uncertainty. "There _is_ bliss in ignorance. Nothing has to change, Erza. Just… pretend you saw nothing."

Erza breathed out.

"There's pancakes in the oven and fresh coffee in the pot," Eileen said in a voice that Erza recognized, the stranger that had dropped a bloody rag into the wash was gone. Eileen smiled brightly.

"I don't have time to eat," Erza said mechanically.

"Oh?"

"I—" Erza cleared her throat and started again. "I have to go to work."

"So early?"

"Yes."

"Hm." Eileen pursed her lips. "I think Mister Fernandez is taking advantage of your commitment to the job. You can do better."

"So I should quit, right?" Erza heard herself repeating her mother's warnings since the first day she learned Erza took the job at _Halo_.

"It'd be what's best for you," Eileen said.

"Or what's safest?"

"The only risks worth taking are the calculated ones. The numbers that came back on Mister Fernandez don't look good." With that, Eileen gathered up her belongings off the kitchen table and took them up the stairs.

Erza took a breath into her tight lungs and got her numb body to move, first taking her to the clothes hamper where she picked out a pair of folded slacks and a white blouse with a purple ascot. She couldn't tie the latter; her hands were shaking too badly.

"To hell with it," she muttered and left it loose. Her jacket hid her poor attempts.

Though she wasn't sure if her mother would be mad about it, Erza grabbed the car keys off the counter and, after jamming her feet into her shoes, rushed outside into the warm spring air. Her movements were still clunky and uneven when she got into the Skylark. She didn't know how good she would be at driving but she couldn't stay there, could she?

The car choked to life and Erza jammed her foot onto the gas too hard. Tires squealed and another car honked its horn when she backed out of the driveway without looking.

"Sorry," Erza said, though the driver couldn't hear her.

She looked up at her house one last time and saw her mother looking down at her from her bedroom window with a stoic expression. What did that look mean? Erza put her foot down on the accelerator, not really wanting to know.

She didn't know she wasn't going directly to _Halo_ until she drove past its street. Like she didn't know she was going to Gray's until she was pulling into his long driveway. She was relieved to see his truck parked up by the front door. She put the Skylark beside it and then just sat there a moment, wondering what it was she was doing there. She had to be at _Halo_ in thirty-five minutes. She needed to get moving.

 _You need answers first_. And she didn't know if she was going to get them here but it seemed like as good as a place as any to start.

The car door seemed _loud_ slamming in the early morning quiet, just like her knock on the door did. She waited impatiently for Gray to answer, then knocked again, as hard as she could, when it wasn't immediately.

She tried again.

And then she tried the doorknob. The house was locked up. Erza took a step back down the stairs and looked up at the farmhouse's brick façade. The windows were dark. Up the stairs she went again with her fist raised. The door was pulled open seconds before she made contact and she almost punched a robe-wearing Gray in the face.

"Erza?"

"Hi." She tried to push past him. He didn't move an inch.

"What are you doing here?"

"I have questions," she said firmly.

"About what?"

Her purpose made itself clear. "The killer."

"What?"

"The fucking killer," Erza spat. "The one chopping people's heads off. I need to know about her. About _them,"_ she corrected. "What do you know?"

"It's a closed police investigation, I can't discuss—"

" _Don't,"_ Erza said clearly. "Don't start spouting police regulations to me. Just tell me everything you know."

A bed creaked upstairs.

"Do you have company?" Erza demanded.

"Yeah, actually. It's not really a great time—"

Erza grabbed the collar of his robe and pulled him out into the golden light. She closed the door too loudly. "Now we won't disturb them. Talk."

"You can't just—"

"Do you want to bet? Talk."

"The Chief—"

" _Look_ ," Erza said. "No one knows better than I do what you can and can't tell the public but this is _important._ I wouldn't ask if it wasn't. I know you and Bacchus have been investigating the murders. Just tell me what you know."

Gray heaved a sigh and looked around the property covertly as if there could be someone hiding in the bushes. Satisfied, he dropped his voice and said, "We don't know much. The ME said it would take a lot of force to cut the heads off the victims, multiple swings for a regular person, and these ones were done with one clean cut so…"

"So you think you're looking for a mage," Erza supplied.

"It seems likely."

That in itself wasn't damning. There were lots of mages in Magnolia. "What else?"

"I have a source that says there was a witness that claims to have seen a sword when Fernandez's guy was killed behind Lucky's."

Erza's throat was tight. "A sword?"

"Weird, right"

"But did they see the killer?"

"They're so scared, they won't even come forward," Gray responded. "All I have is second-hand hearsay."

That was annoying. " _Anything_ else?"

"When Bacchus and I went to check the place out, we found a gold charm that looks like it belonged to a necklace. I put it in the report but," he shrugged. "Could have belonged to one of the girls that frequent that corner."

The bad feeling that had been with Erza since she walked into her mother's kitchen deepened. "Do you have a picture?"

"Not on me."

"Well, what'd it look like?"

"I don't know. It was gold, obviously. About this big," he held his forefinger and thumb two inches apart. "And almost like a rake or something."

"Or like a tree?" Erza asked. "Without any leaves?"

"Yeah. Just like that, actually. What's this about, Erza?" Gray asked. "Do you know who it belongs to?"

She swallowed; she felt parched.

"Erza?"

"No," she managed. "No, I don't know who owns it." She may not have been a great liar but she was faster than Gray, getting out of there before he could grab her arm and yank her back and pump her for information.

* * *

When Ultear didn't answer her own phone and the Constabulary said she hadn't been to work yet, Jellal tried the Fullbuster residence. She picked up halfway through the first ring and spoke in barely a whisper. "Yes?"

"Your father's taken Laxus," Jellal said.

"He's made his move already?"

"Yes. He'll know by now it's you that set him up. You need to lie low."

"I can't yet," Ultear said. "Gray's getting me into that filing cabinet. I'll have names for you in a couple of hours."

"Or you'll be dead."

"Do you want to know who the killer is or not?"

"You're sure the answer's in there, huh?"

"Yes," Ultear said.

"Alright. I'll send protection your way."

"You'll blow my cover."

"But you'll be alive."

"He won't attack me in the Constabulary."

"You know your father better than that," Jellal said.

A male voice spoke from somewhere behind Ultear, asking, "Who is it?"

Ultear spoke away from the receiver. "It's just Levy, baby. She got worried when I didn't pick up my own phone and thought she'd try here." Back into the receiver again, Ultear said, "Thanks for your concern. Everything's fine, though. I'll talk to you later."

The dial tone buzzed in Jellal's ear. He dropped the phone on its cradle and grabbed a bottle of whisky. It was too early for drinking but then again, he never made it to bed so he thought that it didn't much count, did it?

His mother had different opinions, flitting into his office and looking around at the mess the Den had made, money, drugs, and panties, even, still on the floor, and the state that Jellal was in himself. Her look was full-disapproval. "Jellal."

" _Madre_."

"You look like hell."

"And you're beautiful as ever."

"Stop," she said and tried to swipe his drink out of his hand. She went straight through him. Most people would have been confused but Anna knew. "You would show your mother this _ghost?_ How dare you?"

Jellal dispelled the image and stepped into his main office from the small reading room he used for contemplation. "I didn't know you were coming here, otherwise I wouldn't have."

She had no forgiveness for him. "Why would you use such magic in your own home?"

"Because I just had one of my own stolen right out from under my nose, _Madre_ , and I'm starting to think I shouldn't be trusting anyone, should I?"

"Not even your own mother?"

Jellal considered her, then tossed back the rest of his drink. He set it on the desk and filled it up again, three fingers instead of two. "How is Wendy?"

"She's scared."

"I would be, too, with such a threadbare excuse."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Why was she out there?"

"She already told you," Anna said venomously. "She needed to get away from the sound of your—your slut party."

He laughed in her face. "You have no moral high-ground, _Madre_ , inviting Miss Belserion over and then sharing her with _Padre_ on the fucking balcony."

Jellal didn't think his mother had ever slapped him across the face; she always left the punishments to her husband. Her swing lacked commitment but the sound was good, resonating.

Anna looked shocked. Then she sniffed and said, "My business is my own."

"Apologies," Jellal said facetiously and worked out his jaw. "Why are you here?"

"Mister Dreyar has informed me that his grandson is missing. And that you're holding a meeting." Her voice had been a little shaky at first but it evened out at the end.

"Yes."

"Planning on how to get revenge." She shook her head. "Why do you insist on playing these games? You pushed Mister Gaebolg underground, giving yourself the opportunity to escape unchallenged. Take it. _Leave_ Magnolia."

"Leave?" Jellal repeated.

"Yes. Get out of town while you can and find someplace safe."

"No."

"Jellal—"

"This is my livelihood, _Madre._ I need to protect what's mine, not run when things start to get tough."

"You'd rather wait until you have nothing left before admitting that fighting back is fruitless?"

Jellal swept his hands around the room. "Without any of this, I _have_ nothing."

She looked at him in disgust. "You sound just like your father."

"I am my father's son."

"You're a fool, you mean."

"If that's how you want to view it."

She flexed her fingers like she wanted to hit him again. "Then I want to be involved in this meeting."

"Absolutely not."

"Your father kept me out of his business, too, and look at where that got him?" Anna said. "You need someone objective."

"Which is why _you're_ not involved, _Madre_ , and I've asked Erza to join me."

Anna's lips went pencil-thin. "Miss Scarlet?"

"Yes."

"And you think she'll be objective?"

"More objective than you who's still scared from the last time you lost everything."

"You're going to get her killed."

"I would never let anything happen to her," Jellal said vehemently.

"Hubris. You aren't _god._ You can't stop bullets or blades. The best thing you can do to keep her safe is fire her."

"She's free to leave when she wants and she doesn't."

"Does she love you?"

"I'm a bad judge, _Madre,_ if I'm as full of hubris as you say."

"Then do you love _her_?"

"The only thing I love is my money," he said glibly.

No one knew him better than his mother. "Ask her to leave with you for the country. You could start a life together, have a family, be free of all—"

" _Enough_." He rarely yelled. Rarer still did he yell at his mother. Anna's expression darkened. Jellal said in a lower timbre, "Get out."

She closed down completely turned away from him. The door slammed behind her so hard that one of Meredy's paintings fell from its spot on the wall. Jellal barely winced when the glass was shattered, though he was disappointed. Another piece of what he built, in shatters.

He left it where it was and tore off his confining jacket and tie. His dress shirt stayed on, though he undid the top couple buttons.

His office door opened again. Jellal expected to see his mother come back in for round two but it was Makarov and behind him, Wendy. Someone had gotten her a pair of beige slacks and a white dress shirt; her blue hair was braided over her shoulder. She studied Jellal warily as she took up a spot on the loveseat.

"Drink?" Jellal offered.

"Please," Makarov said.

Jellal got a glass for him and Wendy, then one for Zeref, who entered next, and Angel. Sting trailed in after and immediately declined the whisky, Rogue mimicked him. Natsu had two cups of coffee in his hand, one for himself and one for Lucy, Jellal suspected, who trailed in his shadow.

"Juvia?" Jellal asked.

"Juvia is here." Juvia stepped through the door. She'd found her clothes but not a hairbrush. She looked rough, though alert. She took a spot on the couch beside Sting and slouched low, legs crossed.

"This is us," Zeref said. "Let's have it."

Jellal held up a finger. "Not yet."

"What the fuck do you mean _not_ yet? It's eight o'clock, I've had an _hour_ of sleep—"

Erza entered. She looked scattered, scared and stressed, as dishevelled as everyone else.

" _This_ is everyone," Jellal said over the mutterings of ' _Dog,_ ' and other unsavoury things people of Sting and Natsu's disposition liked to call people like Erza, who used to carry a badge. Jellal silenced them with a warning look and a hand on his gun. He didn't relish shooting them but he would if he needed to make his point.

"You're late, Miss Scarlet," Jellal said in the new silence.

"I got hung up." Erza crossed the room and put herself up against his desk.

Jellal let it go. They could talk about _that_ , whatever that may be, later, when there was no audience. "Thank you all for coming. Wendy?"

Wendy looked up, surprised. "Yes, Mister Fernandez?"

"Stand, tell your tale."

"I already told you three times."

"Yes, but not everyone's heard it, have they?" he asked with mock patience.

Her muscles stiffened almost imperceptivity and her mouth curled with displeasure as she got to her feet and cleared her throat. "After I left your office this morning, I went out to the payphone at the corner."

Jellal furrowed his brow. "Remind me, to do what again?"

"To call my friend. Chelia."

"What were you calling her for?" Zeref interjected.

Wendy shot a look Zeref's way. She was convincing, Jellal could appreciate that, looking nervous while she admitted, "I ran into her on the street the other day. She said she was getting a big contract with the coppers and said she could use some help."

"We don't help the heat," Zeref said.

"I know," Wendy said. "I was calling to tell her no, thanks."

"You should have just told her right then and there."

"The money was good."

"No money's that good." Zeref pulled a package of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up. Juvia looked green smelling the smoke. Jellal nudged a garbage can out from beneath his desk and put it centrally in the room, just in case.

"While your feuds are greatly entertaining, it doesn't tell me what happened to my grandson," Makarov said.

Wendy breathed deeply. "A grey coupe pulled up while I was in the phone booth, close enough that I could see in through the window. Mest Gryder and Kane Hikaru were inside. I figured I was in trouble so I hung up on Chelia and ran."

"Which is when they started chasing you on foot," Jellal supplied.

"Yes, because I went through the tree path out front. I made it back to the parking lot before they caught up to me and attacked."

"Wendy, Mest has teleportation magic, doesn't he?" Jellal asked.

"I—I guess," Wendy tripped.

"Yes," Jellal responded, "Yes he does. Strange he'd chase you on foot."

"Obviously he was trying to scare her," Juvia said.

"Maybe. Keep going."

Wendy shot another furtive look Zeref's way. He nodded and Wendy continued. "So I used my magic to hold them off. They were strong, though. Kane caught me." She held out her arms to show off her bruises. Jellal crossed to her and inspected them thoroughly, running the pads of his fingers over the swollen lumps of blue flesh.

"Looks like it hurt."

Wendy turned her big, brown and doleful eyes on him. "I thought I was done for but I got away. I started running again and heard my name. When I looked, Mister Dreyar was there. He had his gun and was shooting at Mest. I don't think he got him, though. Mest was using his magic. And then…" Wendy trailed off.

"And then?"

"And then another person appeared."

Jellal knew after the first time he heard this story, this is where it got good. It was also where he had to pry the information out of her. She hadn't wanted to talk about it then and that hadn't changed. "Be thorough here, Wendy, everyone wants to know."

Her cheeks were red. "Everything got jumbled and then mixed up and it was like—"

"Like?"

"Like, the parking lot wasn't where it was supposed to be."

"In which way?"

Wendy blurted, "I saw a building that's supposed to be across town in your parking lot, and before you say it again, I _didn't_ hallucinate it. It was Grimoire Heart, I'm _sure_ of it."

"How is that possible?" Erza spoke for the first time.

"Hold your questions, Erza," Jellal said. "Continue, Wendy."

"Someone grabbed Laxus from behind and then they were all gone," Wendy said.

"And just left you."

"Yes. I came in then, and found Miss Heart, and you know the rest."

"They didn't try to burn anything, or shoot anyone up," Jellal addressed Makarov directly. "Which leads me to believe that Laxus was, in fact, the target this whole time."

"Get me a car, I'll go to Grimoire myself and tell that old fool to release him."

"Do that and I'm almost positive I'll get both you and your grandson back in a pine box," Jellal said.

"Then what do you plan to do?" Makarov asked.

"Leave him, isn't that obvious?" Zeref said.

"I'm _not_ leaving him," Makarov spat.

"We won't leave him," Jellal said. "But we're not going in guns blazing, either, not until we know the score. We'll wait until Precht contacts us."

Makarov started protesting; Jellal spoke over him. "His target was purposeful. He wanted to anger me and he wanted to anger you, old man. Laxus is alive and Precht will contact us before the day's through, I guarantee. We can't flinch first."

"You're paying a power game with my grandson's life."

"Laxus knows the score."

That got Makarov to shut up. No matter what he said, he knew that to be true.

Zeref asked, "So if you're not planning on doing much, why did you call us here?"

"To tell you to tighten up your ranks," Jellal said, "It was too easy for Precht to get to Wendy and she's too valuable a resource to get axed over a vendetta—"

That got Zeref standing. "This happened on _your_ turf. You told us that we'd be safe here."

"And you _were_ safe here, inside _these_ walls," Jellal said. " _She_ wandered out on her own where she was fair game. You never used to be so careless. Don't tell me Heartfilia's dead and you think it's okay to lose your edge?"

Zeref sucked on his teeth, clearly displeased, yet he admitted, "You're right."

"Zeref," Wendy began.

Shadow pushed Wendy back into her seat hard enough that the breath left her lungs. That was all, though. Not even a drop of blood was spilled, and the only one to flinch was Erza.

"She's just a little girl."

Zeref said, "This is Den business."

"Yes, it is," Jellal said and moved on, hopefully before Erza tried to bludgeon Zeref. "You can talk about it after you do this job for me."

"What kind of job?" Zeref asked.

"We have something—some _one_ , I should say, that Precht's going to want back very badly," Jellal replied. "Ultear was at Fullbuster's house but by now, they'll be on their way to the Constabulary."

"Ultear?" Erza asked.

Jellal ignored her for now. "Give her twenty with the Constable in the Records Annex and then pull her out."

"Breaking into the Constabulary's risky business," Zeref said.

"You've done it once before."

"Yeah, and we got arrested last time."

"Well, you didn't have me last time. I know a cop that'll let you through the doors for the right price," Jellal said.

" _Who_?" Erza interrupted again, earning herself glares from the Den.

Jellal ignored her once more, though he figured he was walking a fine line here. Sooner or later, she was going to explode. He had asked her here to sit in on this, after all. "I'll make the call and get him to meet you out back of the Constabulary. You head downstairs right now and get suited up. There're a couple of uniforms that'll get you through a cursory glance. Try not to kill anyone if you can. If you can get Ultear out of there without blowing her cover, that'd be great, too."

"This is madness," Erza erupted when everyone stood and started away. "You can't honestly be considering this."

"I can and I am," Jellal said.

Erza gave Jellal a taste of his own medicine and ignored him for the Heartfilia girl, perhaps thinking she'd be more reasonable. "Lucy, please, you have to see that this is crazy."

"So's attacking Wendy right under our noses," Lucy said with a furiousness that Jellal didn't know her to possess. "If doing this will piss Precht off, I'm all for it." Then she was gone.

The last person straggling in the room was Makarov Dreyar, struggling to get up from his chair. Daphne entered the open door and helped him stand.

Jellal said, "Take Mister Dreyar to his room, Daphne, and make sure he stays away from the phones and the doors."

"Yes, Mister Fernandez."

Makarov glared at Jellal. "What are you playing at?"

"Just making sure you can't get yourself into trouble, Mister Dreyar," Jellal said with a smile that felt every bit as fake as it must have looked.

Makarov never smiled back, shuffling out with Daphne. Then it was just him and Erza. Jellal closed and locked the door and put his forehead on it. Suddenly, he felt very, very tired.

Erza had no respect for that and exploded. "What the hell is going on? _Ultear_ is your operative? And you sicked her on Gray? Who else do you have in your pocket at the Constabulary? Who is going to let the Den in? And why did you call me to this meeting if you're just going to ignore me?"

Jellal drew in a breath and gathered fortification to do this dance all over again. He turned. Erza was still leaning against his desk, arms crossed stubbornly over her chest. "Yes, Ultear is mine. And no. She chose Gray of her own volition."

" _Why_?"

Jellal wasn't able to keep all of his irritation in check. "How am I to know why any woman fancies Gray Fullbuster? It's a _phenomenon_."

Erza's frown deepened. "Who are you going to pay off?"

"I think you know him. A little skag by the name of Bacchus Groh," Jellal said. "He tried to rip off the poker tables and now he owes me a debt."

Erza didn't even look that surprised. "Gods. No one in this town is straight-lace, are they?"

"And the reason I didn't let you actively participate is that I wanted you _watching_ ," Jellal said. "Tell me your impression of this meeting."

"My impression?" Erza repeated.

"What did you think of Wendy's story?"

"Harrowing," Erza replied eventually. "Those bruises looked painful."

"Yes, they did. I'm sure they'll be with her for weeks to come."

"And then Zeref bullied her like that."

Jellal asked, "The last time you met Zeref, what was he like?"

"Insane," Erza said immediately.

"You watched him shoot Flare Corona through the head for basically nothing."

"Yes."

"Do you still think he was bullying her around?"

"When you put it like that, it seems like a slap on the wrists," Erza admitted, "but she's one of his dragon slayers. And a healer. There aren't many of those in Magnolia. Maybe he was just trying to be reasonable."

The Zeref Jellal knew _wasn't_ reasonable. That deserved further contemplation. He abruptly changed subjects. "What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" Erza asked cautiously.

"You were late. You look stressed. Something's bothering you."

"Nothing," she said too quickly.

Jellal heaved a sigh. "Without Laxus here, you're the only one I trust. I would hope by now you'd feel the same way."

Erza looked at him fleetingly from beneath her lashes. "You trust me?"

"As much as I trust anyone."

Her mouth twitched, not quite a smile. "It's a sad state of affairs when the one person in the world Jellal Fernandez, King of the Underworld, relies on is an ex-constable."

Jellal dared to push a lock of her hair over her shoulder. "I'm not interested in your profession, Miss Scarlet, past, present or future, I'm interested in your morals. They're unquestionable. They'll always lead you to do the right thing."

Erza said, "If that were true, I wouldn't feel so lost right now."

Jellal moved more of her frazzled hair back over her shoulders and she shivered. That shiver seemed to knock a question loose. "Would you ever betray your family?"

"That's an odd question."

"A yes or no will suffice."

"I think you're asking the wrong man, Erza," Jellal after consideration. "My father's all but put a knife in my back now that he's working with Gaebolg and I'm suspicious of everyone. I'm likely to do anything." Erza opened her mouth. Jellal put his finger to her lips and continued. "If you were to ask me before my parents came to _Halo_ , though, I'd say that blood is thicker than water."

Erza looked away and blinked rapidly to stave off tears. "I'm not sure if that helped or not," she said when she could.

Jellal pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He held Erza's chin lightly and daubed the tears away. "Love complicates everything."

"I hate it."

" _That_ we can agree on." Erza laughed a little. Jellal dropped the damp handkerchief to the desk. "Better?"

She looked at him sideways. "You know, sometimes, you're a decent man."

"I knew you liked me," Jellal said with a grin that Erza reluctantly returned.

"Not much."

"Enough to kiss me?"

Jellal expected her to quip, yet Erza took his hand and pulled him closer and stood on tiptoe. Her kiss held a lot of unspoken frustration. He held their mouths together until her muscles relaxed and she seemed not so angry and lost.

"Better?"

"Yes, actually."

"I'm hurt you sound so surprised. I'm quite—"

Jellal wasn't given the opportunity to finish his witticism. Erza kissed him again and he found himself slowly, slowly pulled down into a deep spiral. While it was nice, he worried about her motives.

"Are you using me to ease your frustration?" Jellal muttered against her lips.

"You were happy to have it that way last night," Erza said.

"Last night, you weren't running from whatever's bothering you."

"And you were talking less."

Her lips returned to his while she writhed out of her jacket. Her fingers were nimble enough that by the time Jellal noticed she was working on the buttons of her shirt, she was in her bra.

He thought she'd stop there. Erza was on a mission, taking the cups of her bra and forcing them down beneath her heavy breasts and then putting Jellal's hands on her body. She was smooth and warm and sighed like a siren when he pinched her.

"You make moderation difficult."

"After the way you were pawing at me last night, I didn't think you'd mind," she responded.

He didn't. He thought she would, though.

She bowed back on his desk and Jellal's head emptied. He kissed around her belly button and her ribs and the curve of her breast before using his tongue to tease the hardened tip. She sighed again. It didn't seem to be enough for her, though. She pushed on his shoulder and got standing again, and shimmied out of her pants. Before she did the same to her underwear, she asked,

"The door's locked?"

"I thought Reasonable Erza had taken a hike." Jellal's voice sounded strangled in his ears.

"A yes or no will suffice," she said for the second time.

"Yes," Jellal told her. "Yes, it's locked."

Erza kissed him. Jellal was slower to respond, mind on protection and if he had any in his desk drawer. Yes, he thought so. He rummaged around while Erza's mouth moved to his neck. She pushed aside his shirt to kiss his shoulder. Her fingers were doing mischievous things. Jellal found the condoms just as his pants came open and were pushed unceremoniously down around his thighs.

Erza grabbed him and stroked methodically and when he was closing his eyes and leaning into her, she got away from the rest of her underthings and sat back up on the desk again.

* * *

When Ultear concentrated, she stuck her tongue out between her teeth and tipped it up toward her nose. She shifted on the floor on her knees and her heels tapped together. Papers fluttered beneath her fingers while she separated them, left for mages not skilled enough or unaffiliated with any of the families, right for those that would dare to take on Jellal and his.

"This one's no good, either." Ultear's voice made Gray flinch. She noticed. "What's your problem?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're so jumpy."

"Probably because these files are _restricted,_ " Gray said. "We could both be fired if we're caught."

"Then work quickly and we _won't_ be," she said and handed Gray a stack.

Gray shuffled through them quickly. He recognized more than a few names, though Meredy surprised him, he never knew she was a mage. Her brand of magic was even more peculiar. He wondered what a guy had to pay to experience everything she did in the bedroom. An exorbitant amount, he'd bet. Did she advertise that kind of thing to her clients, or would she rather enjoy her orgasms—or lack of—in peace without worrying if she'd insulted some Clyde if he wasn't a good lover?

Those thoughts weren't helping anyone. Gray flicked through more files until a name caught his eye. _Belserion._ He hesitated, then took it and flipped it open. The paper used to type up Eileen's file was solid card stock. She had a gold dot by her name that someone, likely Jude Heartfilia when he wore the Chief's hat, had scrawled in, as every powerful mage's file Gray had explored had.

Beneath that, where the file listed the magic she could command, was where things got a little different. Scrying, geographical manipulation, enchanting—the land and people—dragon slayer magic, though beside that was a blank space for her speciality, and sensor magic. She could pick mages out of a crowd.

She was the most powerful mage Gray had seen, at least on paper, and the reality of that made his tongue feel like sandpaper.

Suddenly, he saw Erza's trip to the farmhouse and her odd, pointed questions, in a clearer light.

"What is it?" Ultear asked.

Gray couldn't respond. He touched the picture of Eileen stapled to the cardstock. His eyes got caught on gold around her neck. "Hell," he muttered.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Ultear said. She shuffled over and tried to look over his shoulder. "What is that?"

Gray snapped the file closed. "It's nothing."

"Bullshit." She was quick as a snake, tearing it out of his hands and scrambling away.

"Hey!" By the time Gray got to his feet, though, Ultear had the file open and was reading through it.

"Eileen Belserion. And look at the magic she can do. This is it, Gray. This is your killer," Ultear sounded certain.

"We don't know that."

"Look at this! Have you ever seen a more powerful mage?" Ultear pressed. "You have to bring her in for questioning."

"This is Erza's _mom_."

"Who is obviously a psychopathic bitch!" Ultear said. "Bring her in."

Gray furrowed his brow. "I can't just _bring her in_ without a cause."

Ultear waved the file in front of his nose. _"This_ is your cause!"

Gray heard noise from down the hall, the subtle rustle of words whispered. The window on the Records door was empty, though.

"What is it?" Ultear asked.

"Dunno. Nothing, probably"

"Well, here." Ultear pushed the file at him. "Take this. Get your magic-sealing cuffs and your partner, and head on over to Erza's before Miss Belserion realizes that you're onto her."

"How can you be so sure it's her, huh?"

"Because I _am_ ," she said. "Call it woman's intuition."

"Call it cops intuition that I know you're lying," Gray heard himself say.

"What?'

"You are." He was surer the second time he repeated it; he saw Ultear flinch just a little. He knew her better now than he had before and she couldn't hide _that._ "You're sure about this but it wasn't that file that made you that way."

"Do you hear yourself? You sound crazy."

"No." Gray shook his head. "No. Coming here was your idea. Handing me this pile… You wanted me to find this file."

Ultear raised her eyebrows. "Seriously, Gray?"

"Yes." A tumbler fell into place. "Were you the witness Meredy told me about?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

Her words only solidified Gray's surety. "Holy fuck."

"No."

"Yes. You are. You saw Eileen kill Jellal's guy, Sawyer."

Ultear looked close to panic. "Shut _up,_ you idiot. Someone will hear you."

Gray lowered his voice. "Why didn't you say something? Did she threaten you?"

Footsteps thundered down the hallway. Ultear looked at the mess of files still on the ground, and then at Gray. "Someone's coming."

"Hell," Gray swore and threw Eileen's file between two cabinets to his left. Ultear bent and started picking up fistfuls of files and shoving them back into the cabinet at random. The last one was going in when the Records Annex door flew open. Gray had only a split second to recognize Natsu before he was attacked.

Gray caught Natsu's first punch in his jaw and dodged the second by pure luck. He managed to get a hit in of his own and when there was a little bit of room between them, he got his gun free. He tried to aim it but was distracted when the huge windows looking outside exploded behind him. Gray turned to face the new threat and was hit hard in the temple by someone completely new that flitted in from the left.

He saw black.


	18. Chapter 18

Double roasted coffee invaded Laxus' nose. He breathed shallowly, first enjoying the scent that reminded him of his childhood—Gramps always either had a whisky or a coffee going in his hand—and then coming at it warily as he tried to decipher where he was and what was going on.

He didn't remember passing out, he hadn't drunk enough for that. In fact, the last thing he remembered was Wendy running between cars. Shooting his gun and never hitting his target. Magic. Fucking magic.

Cracking an eyelid brought a pockmarked floor into view. Laxus took in his immediate surroundings first. He lay in a rusty stain that had, once, billowed out like a plume but was now dry. Touching it made chunks flake up on the pads of his fingers.

The wall directly ahead seemed to be undecorated concrete, though he couldn't be sure without rolling back to get a clear view of it. Overhead swung a light on a rusty metal chain. Someone had recently pulled the cord to turn it on. The screeching sound it made hurt his ears.

"Your coffee is going cold, Mister Dreyar," inserted a craggy voice that Laxus knew all too well. He slowly turned on to his back. To move too fast was to make the room spin.

Precht leaned forward on an old wooden chair with spinally legs that looked apt to give out at any moment. His hands were clutched between his legs. In one was a coffee, in the other was a gun that he kept loosely pointed at the ground.

"Morning."

Precht tipped his wrist toward the light and read off the face of a gold Cartier Tank watch. "Evening, actually."

That threw him but Laxus kept his surprise from his face. "No windows."

"No," Precht agreed.

Laxus sat up and Precht handed him the coffee. His spinning head made it so he almost missed taking it from his hands. He recovered last-minute and only slopped some over the back of his hand. The cuff of his white shirt stained brown and the concrete turned dark with the odd splatter. No burning, though. Precht was right, it was cold. "Thanks."

"Mmhm." Precht took a cigarette from his pocket and sparked it up. He handed the gold carrier to Laxus and Laxus took one, too.

"Are you going to tell me what I'm doing here?" he said when the lighter went away and the only sound was Precht's cigarette smouldering. "And where the fuck _is_ here?"

"Don't you recognize it?"

Laxus took an honest look around. Barren concrete walls, bloodstained floor sparsely decorated with the leavings of gauze packages and injection needles, as well as needles for stitching. He did. He did recognize it and it made his stomach flop.

The last time he'd been here, in this room, he'd been thirteen and scared straight after seeing his old man get the ever-loving shit kicked out of him. It wasn't the fight that got him, it was the aftermath, seeing his father slumped in likely what was the same chair Precht occupied, nothing but a bloody mass and unable to remember his own name. It made Laxus ashamed. And at the time, fearful, too.

In the times he'd returned to the rings since, he hadn't stepped foot back here, first because his grandfather wouldn't let him and then when he was old enough to make his own decisions, because, though his father had been a bastard, there were better ways to remember his old man.

Precht smiled. "I thought it'd come back to you."

"Yeah. Well, thanks for having me." Laxus got to his feet and lurched uncoordinatedly to the plain steel door. It was locked. He huffed and rested his spinning head on the doorframe.

"You won't be leaving until I say," Precht advised.

"And when's that going to be?"

"I haven't decided."

Laxus turned and faced him with a straight back. "The fuck is this about?"

"The last time we met, you left a fuck of a lot richer, and I under the impression that we'd developed a partnership."

"Last I checked, partners don't attack partners and drop them in this shit place."

Precht reached beneath his chair and pulled out a newspaper Laxus only noticed then. He threw the grey pages at him. Laxus looked at the front where a picture of Jellal and Erza was printed. The banner above them read _Murder at Sentence Six_.

Precht said, "Page three if you will."

Laxus flipped to the appropriate page and found a picture of himself cornered by Elfman Strauss against the side of the car. He swore silently. He hadn't banked on being caught there.

"Funnier than that, though, is I have a source that says you went to the Constabulary with Mister Fernandez that day. And that you spoke with my daughter."

"Ultear's got something special about her," Laxus said with a smile.

Precht was playing no games. "Like the key to my study."

"I was thinking more of her drawers; she likes the lacy things but—"

"Don't fuck with me. You were there for the key." Precht stood. He was old but he was large, wide and still well-built. Age hadn't gripped him like it had Makarov. "When I paid you that disgusting amount of money, Mister Dreyar, _this_ was what I was paying you for, to _tell me_ when Jellal was planning to _ruin_ me. That's what partners do. They do not, however, scheme with their partner's enemies and then remain _silent._ "

He knew the risks, obviously, when he walked into that Constabulary, but he thought once the news of Sentence Six dropped, Precht would have laid low at least for a while. "You're right, I've been a shitty business partner all around. I smelled desperation and took advantage of it. Let me fix that now, though, and give you some advice. Pack your bags and get out of the country. Go somewhere Magnolia's coppers can't spot you. Retire. Lie on the beach with some whore and enjoy the few years you got left. The war's done. Jellal won. Your goose is cooked."

Precht's neck got red and the cords stood out. "I'm not leaving Magnolia, not until Jellal is finished."

"You can't even show your face on the street," Laxus pressed. "How do you expect you're going to get one up on him?"

"My associates assure me that it's being taken care of. All I have to worry about is you, Mister Dreyar."

Laxus puffed on his cigarette. "So what's the big plan, then? Bring me down here and torture me where no one can hear?"

"I thought about it." Precht stomped on his spent cigarette butt. "I honestly, honestly did. And I haven't discounted that. But I figured I'd put you to work for me first."

Laxus shook his head. "Maybe you didn't _understand_ before, but I took your money and ran. There was no good faith. Laxus Dreyar is loyal to Laxus Dreyar and that's that."

"You made that clear," Precht agreed. "I was thinking more along the lines of a match, though. If you win, glory for you, you get to fight again another day. Lose… well. I can think of worse ways to watch you die."

"You want me to fight," Laxus repeated.

"Not just me," Precht said. "My associate thinks it's an honourable way to treat traitors, and many of my guests agree. My house is full, Mister Dreyar. It seems you haven't made many friends in your travels."

There were a lot of ways to be a gangster; Laxus preferred the brutal route. Act first, no one fucked with you later. It was effective, though Precht was right, it didn't endear him to many people. "Great."

"I thought so. You're going to win me back the money you lost me after that fucking stunt last night."

"Guess I don't have a choice in the matter?"

Precht lifted his gun and pressed the barrel to Laxus' forehead. "There are always choices. These are yours. Bullet or fight."

Part of him was stubborn enough to entertain the bullet. He had no death wish, though. "Fight it is."

"That's what I thought." Precht smiled and moved past Laxus to tap the door with the barrel of his gun. The door swung open and Kane waited, broad and toad-like and a little bit smelly, too, like sweat. Behind him was a thin man with hair lifted and greased back.

"Rusty, Mister Dreyar has decided that he will partake in the fight. You should go warm the crowd up."

"Yes, Sir." Rusty showed teeth and detached from the wall, moving out of Laxus' view.

Precht said to Kane, "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, Boss," Kane agreed.

"Then come on."

Kane led them down a hallway equally as grey and drab as the room Laxus awoke in.

"I'm fighting him?" Laxus asked.

"Yes."

"I kicked his ass last time and I'll likely do it again. Don't you think that's kind of boring?" Laxus postured to see if Precht would change his mind. He didn't want to fight Kane again; his knuckles were still sore from his hard head.

"You'd think that you'd be glad to hear that news, Mister Dreyar. Remember, its win or be beaten to death. Either way makes no difference to me."

"Until next time."

"There will be a definite end," Precht agreed. "You can't go on forever."

He'd turn every trick he knew to alter that. Not that he'd tell Precht such, he'd feel foolish if he never got out of there.

"You know you'll be famous? I have friends recording the whole spectacle. People will line up in droves to purchase a copy of this fight."

"Lucky me." Laxus' palms tingled with nervous energy.

The hallway sloped downwards and the first sounds of voices reached his ears. He puffed once more on his cigarette and then threw it against the wall where it would eventually burn itself out.

Kane went left into a small alcove and past two armed guards. He threw open a set of double doors and the voices got exponentially louder, and everything got brighter. Laxus squinted into the light and saw that directly ahead was the fight ring, elevated on blocks, the bottom covered in tanned leather, the sides cordoned off by grey rope.

There was a wet stain in the centre of the ring where something had been recently wiped up, and around it was a few sparse teeth from earlier fights.

Precht lingered by the door where he was able to see the fight ring but he was out of view of the stands.

Laxus told him, "I want whisky when this is done, not coffee. And a pack of cigarettes. And some breakfast, too."

Precht laughed and his thoughts on the subject were obvious. He didn't think Laxus was going to win, and if he did, it wasn't likely he was going to be generous. "Get on."

Laxus blew out his breath and took off his jacket and crumpled tie as he walked out toward the centre of the cathedral-style room. Voices lifted; most booed upon seeing him. Laxus looked around briefly. Precht lied, the stands weren't completely full, some people deciding that watching a fight wasn't worth being associated with a man wanted for murder if the cops found this place.

Laxus threw his coat and tie beside the ring and rolled up the sleeves of his soiled dress shirt. It was a nice piece of fabric, it cost him a pretty penny. It was about to be utterly ruined. He undid the top few buttons as if that would help save the shirt.

Kane was already in the ring and Rusty was saying words that flowed past Laxus' ears fluidly as he grabbed the ropes and pulled himself up. The crowd cheered. That, too, was almost lost on Laxus.

Rusty waved him close to the centre of the ring; Laxus took a spot beside him and opposite Kane. That wet spot was dry now and smelled like bleach and vinegar.

Rusty slung his arm around Kane's wide shoulders and Laxus' and pulled them in close so they could hear over the din. "Precht explained the rules?"

"Yeah," Laxus said. There weren't many.

"Then there's not much left to say. Go on my whistle." He broke away and stepped back, waiting until he was on the other side of the ropes to put two fingers in his mouth and blow sharply. That noise carried over even the loudest spectator.

Kane spread his legs wide for better balance and lifted gnarled hands. His knuckles hadn't really healed from the last time they met Laxus' face. Laxus' cheek ached just looking at them.

Kane was massive but deceptively quick, and tricky. He kept his hands moving in front of his face, making it difficult for Laxus to tell which would strike first.

The left snapped out and rapped Laxus on the nose. It immediately gushed blood and destroyed his shirt. Kane swung again. Laxus blocked. When Kane's punch hit his forearm, it went numb. Laxus shoved him off. Kane hit the ropes and gathered momentum Laxus hadn't anticipated. He came back with a punch that would have destroyed Laxus' teeth if he hadn't lifted his shoulder and taken the hit there. He returned the abuse in the form of an uppercut and Kane stumbled back, teeth red.

Laxus thought he had a chance to gather his wits again but Kane was having none of it. He came in and once he was close, it was hard to shake him off. Shoving only did so much when Kane had set his feet down and lowered his centre of balance. He took the three consecutive punches Laxus made and was left with a bloody and bruised cheek, and then he grabbed Laxus by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down.

Buttons popped and the fabric tore. Most alarming, though, was now Laxus was trapped in a headlock and he couldn't see much of a way out of it.

Kane crouched and bounced on his heels like he was getting ready to drop backwards. Laxus saw his life flash before his eyes, a broken neck and an end met on a blood and vomit stained fight ring. He balled his fists and hit Kane everywhere he could, his ribs, his stomach, his balls. Kane released him.

Laxus scrabbled back, getting room between them. He wiped sweat from his brow before it could sting his eyes. Kane, too, was slicked in sweat and breathing heavily. He stopped gripping his balls and straightened, fists lifted in front of his face once more. Warily, Laxus watched them bob. Pure luck made him dodge left instead of right into a sharp punch. Luck again allowed him to land a hit in Kane's ribs.

Luck had a cost, though. He was back to being too damn close. Kane stepped forward, grabbed Laxus around the middle, and lifted him like he wasn't two hundred and thirty pounds. Down they both went. Laxus watched the world invert and hit the bottom of the mat with enough force that his breath was pushed from his lungs, Kane's elbow in his middle.

The crowd roared. Kane lifted his bulk and got to his feet; Laxus rolled over in an attempt to do the same and was kicked in the middle. Kane didn't give a fuck about what was sporting. Neither did Laxus. The next time Kane wrenched back to kick him, Laxus again hit him in the balls with everything he had. Kane fell to the mat and retched.

He was still winded and his own stomach wanted to crawl up his throat but Laxus got to his feet. Likewise, Kane pushed away from the mess he'd made and started to stand. Laxus was there to hit him in the jaw. His hand ached all the way up through his wrist and into his elbow. Kane stumbled but didn't fall. He got Laxus back, hitting him in the thigh with an elbow. If the ropes weren't there, he would have fallen. A bottle of beer hit the ring and soaked into the leather, adding to his precarious stance.

 _Hurry_.

Laxus clenched his teeth and laced his hands together and brought them down, getting Kane in the temple. That finally got him down on his knees. A kick to the face put Kane on his back. Blood gushed from his nose and made a mess of the ring, and then Laxus' knuckles and forearms and even his face when he sat on Kane's chest, pinning him down, and continued his work from there.

Bones and teeth broke; Kane choked. Laxus' knuckles reopened. It was unsavory work but he kept going past the point when Kane moved no more.

* * *

Sweet singing was a nice way to wake up, Gray decided as the tune of _Don't Be Cruel_ filtered into his ears. Her voice didn't mash with Elvis', it complimented it.

"Why do you like this shit so much?" asked a voice much rougher.

"It's not _shit,_ it's _music,_ and it's _excellent,_ " Ultear combatted.

"I know a preacher that says he's the devil born again."

"You're a fucking idiot, Sting."

"I never said I believed him."

They went around a corner and Gray was pushed into the body next to him. It smelled like cologne, not perfume. He pulled his brows together and turned down his mouth. His jaw _ached_ when he did that.

"Fuck, is Sleeping Beauty _finally_ waking?" asked another familiar voice.

"How about I hit _you_ in the face like that and see how you do?" Ultear retorted.

"You're testy, eh? He's just a copper."

 _Natsu,_ Gray thought. _That's Natsu Dragneel._ Mmhm. Absolutely. A memory dislodged of him flying in through the Records door.

"And you're just a gangster."

"And what do they call you, Ultear?"

"Whatever I tell them to." Cool fingers touched Gray's chin and the pain brought him a bit closer to complete consciousness. "You should have left him at the Constabulary."

"I tried to, _you_ wouldn't let me."

"Because you wanted to kill him."

"The only good cop's a dead one," Natsu said.

The fingers left Gray's cheek and the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking hit his ears. "The same can be said about a gangster, can't it?"

"There is a _lot_ of hostility in here," said Gray's pillow. "Do you guys want to talk about it? I'll be the moderator. First rule is civility. Give me your guns; come on."

Gray heard rustling from the front seat and then felt something whizz by his face, heard the impact of flesh against flesh, and then a stream of curses. He was jostled. More scuffling. More punching. More swearing. And zagging. The world was swinging around wildly.

"Holy fuck. You're _driving,_ Natsu!" Sting exclaimed.

Horns blared. Gray cracked his eyes and saw Natsu struggling with someone in a blue uniform. A constable's hat flew off his head and landed in Gray's lap.

Ultear got up on her knees and started pushing. "You're _hurting_ him."

Sting yelled, "Sit the fuck down! _All_ of you."

When that didn't work, the car swerved hard and everyone was thrown apart. Gray was finally able to see his other seatmate. "Ah, fuck."

Natsu tried to get back into it. Sting grabbed his elbow and threw him back into the seat and shoved his shoulder. " _Stop_. And _drive._ I can't keep steering with you flailing around."

Ultear posed, waiting for more.

"You done and fucking bloodied my nose," Bacchus complained thickly. "Is that the fucking thanks I get for putting my ass on the line?"

"I'm going to bloody more than that."

"When this car stops you can do whatever the fuck you want," Sting said. "Not until then, though. Drive, Natsu."

"What the hell is going on?" Gray's voice cracked.

Bacchus finally looked at him. His face and uniform were a bloody mess and when he smiled, his teeth were red. It didn't stop the manic glint that lived in his eye, though. "Hey, partner."

Ultear snorted and handed him a handkerchief from somewhere inside her shirt. "You're dripping."

"Thanks, baby."

Gray used buildings to get his bearings. They were travelling at speed down the street toward _Halo_. "Someone start talking."

Ultear chose to look out the window. Gray looked at Natsu. He seemed suddenly very interested in driving again. Sting said, "Don't look at me."

That left Bacchus, who led with, "Your girl is more than she seems."

Ultear looked away from the window to bark, "Don't fucking make this about me."

"It's always been about you, Miss Double-Agent."

"Someone just fucking talk plainly," Gray demanded.

"Ultear was paid by Fernandez to gather information on the dogs and we were paid to pick Ultear up from the Constabulary before her daddy could rain down his righteous judgement," Natsu stemmed from the front. "Your partner was paid to let us into the Constabulary and he and Ultear collectively have a soft spot for you that I'll never fucking understand, which is why you're here, breathing, and not back in the Constabulary, dead before you can rat to your Chief and fuck everything up for us."

Gray turned his incredulousness first on Bacchus.

"What?"

"You let them in?"

"I had no choice."

"Really, he didn't," Ultear told the window. "Jellal wanted a copper he could rely on and invited Bacchus to _Halo_ to play poker, knowing that when Bacchus gambled, he cheated. Most of the time he wasn't caught but when he was, he relied on people's good graces to get him through."

"Turns out Jellal Fernandez doesn't have any," Bacchus said with a smile that was supposed to be charming.

"Never change, Bacchus, I like you as a vice man," Sting said.

Gray couldn't even say he was surprised about that. But to have his earlier suspicions confirmed about Ultear. "You're the mole?"

Ultear's sighing breath fogged the window. Bacchus shifted beside Gray and he turned to glare.

"I'm trying to give you room here but space is limited," Bacchus said.

Gray turned his back on him. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I was doing my job?" Ultear suggested.

"For _Jellal Fernandez_."

"Yes."

Gray pinched his nose.

"I'll translate. That there means we really hate that guy," Bacchus leaned in to chime.

Gray pushed him back. "Shut up."

"I'm just trying to help."

" _Don't_." He turned back to Ultear. "The call for you at the Constabulary? Was that a ruse?"

Ultear said, "I paid one of my contacts to make it."

And then like clockwork, he'd invited her back to his home to keep her safe, where she manipulated him into breaking into the record cabinet. "I can't believe you played me for a fool."

"I can. Even if you weren't painfully gullible, she was made for acting. Ultear, baby, I have a friend in Hollywood that knows this director. He usually goes for blondes but with the right kind of persuasion, he'd make you a—"

Gray elbowed Bacchus and pushed him back again. "Seriously. _Shut the fuck up_."

"I don't need to fuck my way up to the top," Ultear said. Gray opened his mouth and was positive he was going to say something mean. She cut him off. "I made up the phone call, my father would never have given me that warning, but the threat was real."

"Who's your father?"

Gray had been expecting more lies but she gladly gave him that information. "Precht Gaebolg."

"Fuck, Ultear."

Her mouth pulled in a half-assed smile. "Thanks for letting me stay over."

"I'll translate again," Bacchus offered. "She's a liar but she's genuine about this. She wouldn't let Natsu put slugs in you and demanded that they took you. She's sweet on you."

"And what the fuck are you doing here?"

"I offered to carry you out, figured if they needed me, they wouldn't try to do me like they tried to do you."

Gray turned to finish what Natsu had started and saw the grill of a truck seconds before it smashed into the passenger's side door. The world spun, the car lifted and thrown at great speed. Metal crunched and glass broke.

Gray was pushed into Ultear and then hit the ceiling of the car. He felt like he was being folded in a hundred ways, his fingers crushed in the collapsing metal roof, his ribs smashing into the seats. And then there was everyone else's bodies, heads that cracked against the ceiling or frames or bashing into each other.

Gray was faintly aware of the front windscreen breaking and the smell of iron. Blood, or car? That was difficult to discern.

Only seconds passed but it felt like an hour. Finally, the car stopped rolling, on its tires once more. The radio still played, only now it was _Race with the Devil_ by Gene Vincent. Gray blinked dazedly, trying to decide if he didn't understand the lyrics because most of them were gibberish or because he couldn't hear. His ears were _ringing._

He looked sideways; Ultear was against the passenger's door, her head bleeding alarmingly. Bacchus was half in the front seat and his arm was twisted weirdly around his back. Natsu was slumped against the steering wheel, and Sting lay in two pieces, half in and half out of the car. Gray was too dazed to gag.

Footsteps clacked over pavement. Gray turned his head and saw the truck driver bend to look into the rear driver's side window. He recognized Bluenote Stinger from Grimoire Heart without the help of his notes, Bluenote's face had shown up on more than one bulletin over the years.

He yanked open the door like it hadn't been mangled shut and went straight for an unconscious Ultear, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her out like she weighed nothing at all.

"Hey." Gray's voice came out much weaker than intended. He tried again. " _Hey_." Still craggy but it caught Bluenote's attention, at least. "Let her go."

Bluenote didn't listen. He hefted Ultear up over his shoulder and started to walk away. Gray pulled himself over the seat and out the door. He fell first and bits of glass bit into his hand. Up again, he looked for his gun only to find he didn't have it. "Hey!"

There was a small crowd gathering, spectators, some with instant cameras that took pictures.

"Hey!" Gray yelled again.

Bluenote was already at his transport truck, opening the driver's door and climbing inside. Gray hobbled after him and grabbed the only thing he could—Bluenote's shirt—and pulled back with all his might and body weight, relying on gravity to work for him.

He was moderately successful, Bluenote stumbled out of the truck and onto the asphalt. He'd already unloaded Ultear, though.

Gray wasn't thinking straight and instead of subduing Bluenote, he attempted to shove past him to get Ultear back out of the truck. He was lying on the pavement faster than he could understand _why_. Bluenote was climbing back into the truck again. Gray grabbed his pant leg and pulled. He got kicked in the face. When that still wasn't enough to dislodge him, Bluenote pulled out his gun and shot him in the guts. It should have hurt, yet he didn't feel anything, not yet, just a pinch, and a sudden weakness that made him fall back.

Police sirens shrilled in the distance.

The truck's gears engaged and the engine revved horribly. Gray crunched in on himself and rolled as best he could to avoid getting flattened. The car was hit again and spun back. Then the truck was gone, police and paramedics were rushing to take its place.

* * *

Whisky wasn't for everyone. It was bitter and, the good stuff, unsweetened. Jellal had a penchant for it and would never trade it for anything, not even his best snow. It could be sipped and enjoyed in moderation. Used to celebrate or soothe, as it was in that moment. He wasn't sure which of them needed the drink more, he or Erza. Erza's hands wouldn't stop shaking as she picked her clothes up off the floor and dressed and his heart wouldn't slow. There was work to be done, though.

He called the bank first and tried to put a hold on absolutely everything until he came in _personally_ to lift it. He quickly learned that except for his savings account, all of the money was gone.

Jellal sucked on his teeth as he listened to the bank manager, Mister Salvatore, sweating on the other end of the line, making up excuses and quoting a made-up letter supposedly signed with his name. "Enough," Jellal cut in when he could, and the man effectively shut up. "Who brought it in?"

"Miss Heart."

And she hadn't even tried to be very sneaky about it.

When Jellal's rage subsided enough, he spat out, "What's left in the savings?"

"Fifty thousand, Mister Fernandez."

Was that all? Jellal could feel his blood pressure rising. He clutched the tie around his throat and glanced in Erza's direction. She was watching him like he was a snake on the verge of striking. He tightened his tie again. And again until he almost couldn't breathe. He felt better, though, and told the manager, "Pack that up for me and lock it up. I'll be in to collect it in a day or so."

"Yes, of course," Mister Salvatore said between loud breaths.

"I want you there to deliver it to me," Jellal added. "Personally."

"It would depend on the time. I have appointments I can't miss—"

"It's not open for debate. I'll be seeing you." There wouldn't be any getting out for Mister Salvatore. Jellal hung up and promptly called his mother's room. She didn't answer. He wasn't surprised. He called upstairs. Seilah informed him that Anna had taken the keys for the Bentley and hadn't specified when she'd be returning.

"Never, I'd bet," Jellal told her.

"Sir?"

"Nothing. Forget it. If she comes in, hold her until I arrive."

"Yes, Sir."

Jellal hung up.

"What's wrong?"

How did he articulate? "My mother is betraying me."

He expected shock. Erza stared at him and asked no questions.

"She went to the bank this morning during our meeting, I suppose, and took out all of my money with a forged note." Saying it aloud made it sound _ludicrous_. His mother. His _mother._ He could still feel her hands in his hair. He could still hear her call him _Piccola Stella._

 _Should I have invited her to the meeting_? Would that have _changed_ anything?

"I suspected when my father betrayed me that she might be in on it as well, but she's always been…"

"Someone you've trusted?" Erza asked.

"Yes. My father, though…" Had always been a man of secrets and lies. He kept his own council quite often and almost never let anyone in. _Unless, of course, he's there to tell you that not everything is as it seems_. The thought came unbidden and carried with it the memory of his father sitting at _Halo's_ bar, a whisky in hand and cryptic words on his lips. Jellal examined them in new light and found himself slogging through suspicions and paranoia.

He pushed his hands through his hair and took in a breath so deep, his lungs hurt.

Erza finished buttoning her shirt and then started braiding her hair. "Everyone has secrets."

"You don't keep secrets from your family," Jellal said vehemently.

"You really think that?"

Her words were sodden with double-meaning that he didn't have the patience to decipher. He returned to his reading room for cigarettes. When he came back out, the phone was ringing. He picked it up off its cradle and listened to Seilah say,

"Mister Fernandez, Miss Strauss is here."

"Mirajane?" Jellal asked.

"Yes. She's looking for Mister Dreyar. What would you like me to tell her?"

"To fuck off," Jellal said. "Laxus isn't here." He hung up the phone.

"Mira is here?" Erza asked.

"Looking for Laxus." Jellal poured himself another drink, and one for Erza, too. She took it and her hands didn't shake quite so bad.

"I guess she hasn't heard."

Erza crossed the room to the TV stand and flipped it on. Loonie Tunes waited. She stared at the opening, at Bugs taking a huge bite of his carrot, then sat down right there on the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees. Jellal thought to ask if she was alright but he just couldn't be that attentive, he had a million things on his mind and Erza had only been a successful distraction for moments. Since then, the pile of shit he was drowning in had only gotten bigger.

He wondered if he should send someone out after his mother. He thought he knew where to find her, though. The same place he'd find his father, no doubt.

Precht would have evacuated Grimoire Heart when he realized the police were onto him but he had other places, a few leather shops and boxing rings, the legal kind and not so legal. Jellal thought he'd dig him up at the latter if he hadn't left the country. He didn't think Precht would, though, not until he got some kind of revenge or ended up dead.

Walking into a place like that would be difficult. Walking out of it even worse. But, he wanted his mother and his father back. Jellal wasn't sure if he could kill them both but he was more than willing to try.

More than the return of his parents and even his funds, he wanted Laxus back by his side when he struck back against Precht. If he was still alive.

 _So then what?_

He couldn't send Ultear in; Precht would shoot her down. He could count on the Den once more but that was risky business. He trusted Zeref about as far as he could throw him. Things weren't _right_ on the Den front. He couldn't pinpoint what _exactly_ , though.

His office door burst open and Jellal snatched his gun out of its holster. It was cocked and pointed when Erza leapt to her feet and yelled, _"Don't_ shoot her!"

Jellal's finger flexed, then relaxed.

Mirajane didn't appreciate how close she came to getting a new hole in her body. She was very focused on one thing.

"Your woman at the front desk said Laxus is missing."

Seilah appeared behind her. "Sorry, Mister Fernandez. She's quick."

Mira shook Seilah off when she grabbed for her. "What do you mean, he's missing? Is he dead?"

Jellal dented his brows. "What are you doing here, Miss Strauss?"

"I thought I'd come by after last night. Where is he?"

"Precht Gaebolg took him," Erza said, betraying Jellal's confidence. He thought about shooting her, too, if only because he was feeling prickly. The thought passed, ephemeral and without much substance.

"Why?"

"Because he's angry with us," Erza said.

"That's enough, Erza," Jellal warned.

"Angry at you for what?"

Erza fell silent but she looked at Jellal to explain. He didn't owe Mira anything. "Please leave, Miss Strauss."

"Tell me if he's alright."

"How can I when I don't even know?"

It was like she didn't even hear him. "Is he dead?"

"Not likely."

Mira's eyes got wider. "Then is he being tortured?"

"Alright. That's enough. Seilah, remove her."

"Don't _touch_ me." Mira slid out from Seilah's grasp. "What are you doing to retrieve him?"

"What?" Jellal asked.

"You can't leave him there, not when this is your fault."

"How the fuck—"

"I saw the news," Mira cut in. "I know what you guys found at Mister Gaebolg's gambling house, and I know that Laxus was waiting for it. I know it was a setup. Mister Gaebolg's retaliated for it. So I'll ask again, what are you doing to retrieve him?"

Jellal sighed. "Unless you have a way to either get me in or get Laxus out of Precht's care, get out."

Seilah grabbed Mira's arm and started forcibly dragging her from Jellal's sight.

"I know a man," Mira blurted. "I know a man in Grimoire Heart."

"Wait, Seilah," Jellal said and she stopped trying to pull Mira away from the doorframe she gripped so desperately.

Mira shook her off again. "I know a man that will do anything for enough money."

"Who?"

"His name is Rusty Rose. My brother sometimes shoots pool with him and pays him for dirt on Grimoire's criminal front. I can contact him and see what they've done to Laxus. If you pay."

Jellal barely hesitated in going to the safe behind his desk where he kept some emergency funds. "Very well."

Information was power, after all.

* * *

A/N: Hi. Sorry. It's been a while. And I deleted the old shit saying that the new shit would be up in like, a week. BOY, was I wrong. Anyway. Things have been crazy. A rollercoaster, you may say. I had an interview, I bombed it, I had an agent contact me and say thanks but no thanks, I had a publishing company offer me a deal that actually wasn't that great. And then when I was swimming in the gutter, I had another interview and it actually went pretty well. So on top of anniversaries, crippling emotional rides, being fucked off with just about everything fan fiction and writing related, and general havoc, here we are.

On a side note. I deleted both Hunter and The Unbreakable Mister Redfox. Both can be found for a limited amount of time on my profile over on Archive of Our Own, same name.


	19. Chapter 19

Erza flipped the TV channel from Bugs to the news, something that should have been much more boring if it weren't for Jellal's Buick there on screen, skid marks on the road, smoke coiling out of the engine.

"Isn't that—"

"Yes." Agitation coiled in his chest.

"The newscaster just said a police officer was shot."

Jellal heard _Constable Gray Fullbuster_ and he thought Erza was going to be sick, her lips completely disappeared.

On screen, a helicopter landed on the cluttered highway and a man was lifted inside on a gurney.

"That's him," Erza said, pointing. His black hair shone in the sun.

"He's alive," Jellal said. There was someone else that wasn't though, they sat in a zipped up body bag and emergency crews moved around them deftly.

Erza clutched the TV with two hands like she was going to shake it for information. "God. _Why_ was he there and _who_ shot him? Do you think it was the Den?"

"No," Jellal said. "I don't think so." At least he hoped not. Zeref was crazy, but not crazy enough to put Natsu in danger. "I think it was whoever ran them off the road." He searched for a woman in all of the havoc and could see no sign of Ultear. "Precht." He swore.

"What?"

"He took Ultear." Or she was dead. He needed more facts.

Jellal scoured the crowd again just to be _sure_. Definitely no Ultear. He saw Natsu, though, sitting on the back of an ambulance with gauze holding his head together and staring at the crunched up car like it had betrayed him. No one was putting cuffs on him yet; paramedics were at his elbow and ushering him onto a gurney. He didn't want to lay down. They left him for a moment so the could move another familiar-looking Constable, whose injuries weren't as severe, toward the waiting ambulance.

Natsu tried to stand. He fell. Paramedics took advantage of his disorientation and stuffed him into the back of the truck.

Jellal got on the phone. His influence in the hospital was minimal, to say the least, but he knew a doctor or two.

His office door flew open mid-sentence and Zeref rushed through, a hornet trapped in a jar and shaken.

"Did you see?"

"Wait," Jellal said away from the phone's receiver.

Zeref pushed him. "Don't fucking tell me to wait. They've got him. They're going to arrest him."

"They're not arresting him," Jellal said.

"Really? Because—"

Jellal held up his hand so he could hear the doctor. The man handed Jellal over to a nurse. She nattered in one ear; Zeref in the other. Jellal was good at tuning things out and employed that skill.

"Thank you," Jellal said over whatever it was that Zeref was saying, and hung up.

Zeref pushed his shoulder again. "Did you hear me?"

"No," Jellal said flippantly and lit a cigarette. Zeref promptly knocked it out of his hand and Jellal looked at him exasperatedly.

"My _brother_ is in police custody—"

"Your brother is first being taken to the hospital," Jellal said. "Which is where we're going to be with your little witchy healer so she can put his brains back they way they were. Get Wendy together."

"We'll be _recognized_. They'll _expect_ us to come for him. This is basic fucking trap making. Are you the mad fucking king or something?"

"Erza and Wendy are the ones doing the hard stuff, not us. You'll wait with the getaway car," Jellal told him calmly. He didn't look at Erza to see how she felt about her sudden involvement in the plan.

As Erza had, Zeref looked sick. He pushed his hands through this hair. "You know what? I don't care, I'll do it. I'll tear the hospital down if I have to. We have to get him out."

"You're not doing it. You're not tearing the hospital down, either. There are people in there that haven't done a damned thing." Some of the hectic fury that surrounded Zeref eased and Jellal felt it safe enough to clasp his shoulder. "The girls will take care of him. I have it all figured out. The paramedics have already called it in, the hospital has a room set up for them. Natsu's going to be taken into A-thirty on the ground floor. You'll wait outside the window and when Wendy makes it through, she'll send him out your way."

"He'll have a police escort," Erza said.

"Kill them," was Zeref's immediate response.

"No," Jellal said before Erza could. "I don't want to be on the run like Precht. We'll do this civilly and create a diversion."

"What kind of diversion?" Zeref asked warily.

"Something that will draw them out…"

"But not anything dangerous," Erza added. "Like… a smoke bomb or something. They'll respond, it's protocol."

"Good. Smoke bomb is good," Jellal said. "We'll deploy it on the same floor but on the other side of the hospital. How fast can Wendy heal?"

"If the damage isn't too bad? She's quick," Zeref said. "She'll be able to make him good enough to move and fix it up later."

"Good. Get Wendy, tell her the plan. Ask Angel to do her up so she's not easily recognized. And tell Rogue and Juvia to come along in the Bentley but to wait. They're there in case anything goes wrong. Let's get moving."

Jellal's door burst open unceremoniously and Zeref rushed out and Mirajane rushed in. Seilah was on her heels again and looking annoyed.

"Mister Fernandez, I'm sorry," Seilah said. "I was going to knock."

"It's fine." Jellal waved her off and welcomed Mira into the circle of his arm. "What did you discover, Mirajane?"

"I went through Elfman's contact book, the one he keeps in his sock drawer." Mira's eyes were glowing like she loved the rush. "I found Rusty's name. There were a couple different numbers for him and I had to call them all, but eventually, I got him to pick up. He almost hung up on me until I told him my name and how much money I was going to give him. I'm supposed to meet him at this little tea shop on Vesper Avenue to pay up."

"The point, please, Miss Strauss," Jellal said.

"He told me that he saw Laxus _today_. Precht's put him in one of his fight rings and put him up against a man named Kane."

"Is he alive?" Jellal asked.

"That was all he would say without getting paid."

That was annoying but not entirely surprising. "How much do you trust him?"

"About as much as I can pay him," Mira said.

"Good." Men that could be bought were simple. Jellal went to his wall safe and pulled out four more stacks of cash. "Now, listen close."

* * *

Erza was uncomfortable. She adjusted the scarf that covered her hair like _that_ was the problem when in truth, it was everything _else._ Like the smoke bomb in her pocket. She knew Jellal's decision to choose her for this part of the plan was sound—of them all, she was the one that would attract the least amount of attention setting it off. If someone spotted her lingering in the hallways by Gray's room she could pass off her presence sensibly. That didn't mean she liked her role any better.

Despite her own misgivings, her counterpart was collected. Erza glanced down at Wendy. She was almost unrecognizable. Angel had given her a short black wig to cover her hair and had put makeup on her, too, to help alter her features. She was in the nicest pair of black slacks she owned and a blue and white polka dot blouse. She looked respectable, the kind of girl that wasn't really on the wrong side of the law. She looked sad, too, and would fit in perfectly with the hospital residents near the ICU.

They turned down a hallway where a cop stood at a doorway that had to be Gray's. He stared down Erza and Wendy, then put a cigarette in his mouth and wandered around the corner, money in his hand for the vending machine.

"Why doesn't he have two men watching him?" Erza complained.

Wendy spoke quietly. "He's not a priority."

"Seems like none of us are at the Constabulary," Erza muttered under her breath. Wendy looked at her peculiarity and Erza's cheeks heated. She bowled over her slipup and distracted with a sound observation. "It's quiet down here, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Gray was _shot_ and they brought him here in a helicopter. They don't do that if it's not serious, so where are the people that are supposed to be taking care of him?"

Wendy looked perturbed. She glanced up and down the hallway. "You don't think Precht knows and sent them off, do you?"

Erza's stomach flipped. "He couldn't."

"No, I guess not," Wendy agreed. "Maybe everyone's just busy."

Maybe.

Erza asked, "Are you sure you can get into Natsu's room and get him out? He's a lot bigger than you."

"If he needs healing, I'll do it and he'll take himself out," Wendy said.

"What if this doesn't work and there are still guards? They're not going to let you walk in."

Wendy responded concisely with, "I'll deal with them," and Erza figured that the conversation was over.

Her stomach was roiling with nerves when they got level with Gray's room. Despite being on a timeline, she hesitated by the door and looked in. The sun had set and the lights were off and the only illumination Erza could see came from a tube light over Gray's bed.

He lay supine with a mask over his mouth and nose, a loud machine pushing air into his chest and a monitor beeping at his bedside. The sound put Erza on edge. He looked lifeless, shirtless and his belly patched low by his liver. Bile rose in her throat. She swallowed.

Wendy pushed past her into the room.

"What are you doing?" Erza hissed.

"In this line of work. the Devil's always knocking on the door. I'm tired of it," she said and placed her hand on Gray's wrist. The heart monitor beeped louder. Erza hurried into the room but by the time she grabbed Wendy's wrist, Wendy was backing away and Gray's fingers were twitching. His colour looked better, too.

Erza almost cried. She held it together. "Zeref isn't going to like that you healed him."

"Zeref isn't here right now," Wendy said snippily. "We should go before he wakes up. Come on."

Erza's jittery legs would barely carry her out into the hallway. She breathed deeply and reached for calmness. It was a state easier obtained when she thought, _because of Wendy, Gray's going to wake up soon_ , which in turn helped her justify doing these bad things with these bad people because this meant that they weren't _wholly_ bad. There was _some_ morality to them.

 _I can do this._

The nurse's station for the Laboratory came into view. It was dark; everyone had gone home for the day, just like Jellal said. It was a good place to wait, undetected. Just on the opposite end of the hallway was the maternity ward, where Erza would be dropping her smoke bomb. The babies were protected from the smoke by a glass wall and everyone would be in a panic to get there.

"When the clock strikes seven," Wendy said.

Erza looked at the clock above the cluttered desk. It was six fifty-six, almost six fifty-seven.

"Yeah."

Wendy drifted away from her without any other words. Erza sat in one of the many chairs in the waiting area and chewed her nail as she listened and watched the second hand _tick, tick, tick_.

A door behind the desk opened and bright light and a rotund woman came through. She startled almost as badly as Erza when she saw her. She recovered quicker, though. "Can I help you?"

"No," Erza squeaked. She cleared her throat. "No. Thank you."

The woman looked at her quizzically. "This waiting area is for the lab, and it's closed. I'm going to have to ask you to move on."

"I know. I was just trying to get some air," Erza stammered. "I'm sorry. My boyfriend was shot and I just…" She didn't have to try hard to seem overwhelmed.

"The police officer?" the nurse said sympathetically.

"Yes."

"He was in bad shape when he came in but he's stable now."

Erza sniffed and rubbed beneath her eyes. The nurse pouted and waddled around the counter with a handkerchief. "Don't cry. A redhead like you, you'll make your cheeks blotchy."

While the nurse patted her back and daubed her cheeks, Erza glanced at the clock. Six fifty-eight. She had two minutes and she needed to get into position. The nurse didn't show any signs of leaving her side, though. Erza kicked herself for running with this act. Why did she talk to her? Why did the nurse remain? And _why_ couldn't she think of a good way to get out of this mess? Wendy was counting on her to make the diversion.

 _Think_.

 _Think._

The nurse helped her out. "Would you like me to get you a cool glass of water? There's a fountain down the hallway but the water always comes out warm."

"Would you?" Erza gushed. "That'd be lovely."

The nurse smiled. "Just a moment, dear."

The clock struck six fifty-nine.

Erza waited impatiently for the nurse do disappear back the way she came and then she moved, down the hallway toward the light of the maternity ward. It was early by a few seconds but she figured that Wendy was likely in position by now.

She remained in the shadows and pulled the smoke bomb from the pocket of her coat. It was heavier than she imagined it would be and was thankful when it stopped pulling down her collar on her shoulders.

Her thumb was depressing on the button when a hand closed around her wrist. Erza jumped and dropped the bomb; it rolled away, undeployed, and stopped beneath some waiting chairs in the centre of the room. She turned and met a face she hadn't expected.

"Chief. What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for when the Den tries to come after Natsu." He released her so he could go after her bomb. "Scarlet…" he said when he'd picked it up and identified it. "Your job was to watch and report back to me." He returned to her and waggled the smoke bomb in her face. "This is the kind of thing that warrants a phone call, at the very least."

She rubbed her sweaty hands on her pants. "Chief…"

"No matter, right? You're here now, and just the girl I wanted to talk to."

"About what?" Erza asked cautiously.

"My Constabulary was broken into today. My filing cabinet, too, where all the mages in Magnolia are listed. One file was left out from the rest, stuffed between two filing cabinets. I almost didn't find it."

He hadn't said much but already, Erza hated where he was going with this.

"Do you know whose file that was?"

"No. Why would I?"

"Because you know them very well," Briggs said. "Miss Eileen Belserion." Her hands were shaking without her permission; Briggs missed nothing. "You knew."

"I didn't know she was a mage," Erza said.

" _Liar."_

"I just—I just found out this morning."

He made a play at checking his watch. "So if you woke at six, you had thirteen hours to call me but never did."

"She's my mother."

"She's now the lead suspect in a murder investigation."

"She's my _mother,_ " Erza reiterated.

"And this is the _law_. I thought you wanted to be a Constable. I thought you knew what that meant. I badly misjudged you."

"No."

"Then tell me now, is she the killer?"

Erza closed her eyes and _breathed._ "I don't know."

"Is Jellal Fernandez in on her plan?"

"No." Erza added, "I don't know anything about a plan."

"Of course you do, you're Fernandez's arm piece now. You know everything he does."

"No."

Briggs wouldn't let her have peace, grabbing her shoulder and shaking her until she opened her eyes. "Then what are you doing here with this?"

"I—"

"Just say it, Scarlet. You were the diversion while Jellal and the Den came for Natsu, right?"

She backed up out of his hold; he grabbed her wrist, making that connection again.

" _Answer_ me."

"No." She didn't know why she said that instead of the truth.

"I can see it in your eyes, Miss Scarlet. Jellal Fernandez told you to jump and you _jumped_."

"It wasn't _like_ that."

"Of course," he said sarcastically. "You just come into places like this with his weapons to mislead your old colleagues because you're playing the part. Like you were playing the part when you withheld information regarding your mother's involvement in these murders."

Erza bit her cheek hard, disquieted because he was _right._ She should have called and didn't. She got caught up in the tide and never once tried to swim for shore.

Briggs saw the admission on her face. "This is why you'll never be Constable, Scarlet. A man says pretty things to you and you fall for his tricks. Put your hands together, you're under arrest for aiding and abetting criminals."

"What?" Erza said.

Briggs reached for the cuffs on his belt. "Now."

"No." She turned on her heel. Briggs yanked on her wrist hard enough that she would have a bruise and wrenched her around.

"You're a _disgrace_." His cheeks were bright, bright red.

"As are you, Chief Briggs," said a voice that made Erza cold all over. Eileen stepped from shadow like one stepped from a doorway. "I told Erza that the moment you wouldn't let her go on patrol. My daughter has faith in men, though. She thinks they'll do the right thing."

Briggs released Erza and turned on Eileen with his gun drawn. He moved pretty quick when he wanted. "On the ground."

"Never." Eileen reached in through the same shadows she'd walked from and brought out a long, silvered sword. Erza's palms tingled with nerves.

"Momma."

"Step back, Erza."

Briggs cocked the hammer of his gun. "Get on the ground or I will shoot. I'm not bluffing, Miss Belserion."

Eileen moved as quickly as a striking snake. Erza was splashed with Briggs' blood on her face and chest, and on her shoes, too, when his head bounced on the floor, suddenly free of his body.

Erza stumbled into the light of the maternity ward and one of the nurses saw her. "Miss? Miss, are you—" she trailed off when Briggs' body fell into the light and spilled red on the tiled floor. Then the screaming began. Hers was the catalyst for Erza's, she felt the noise begin in her chest and push up against her throat.

Eileen's voice slipped from the shadows. "He never would have let you be Constable."

Erza's ears were roaring so much she didn't register the feet coming down the hall. It was Jellal's voice calling her name sharply that got her moving, running left away from her mother and the maternity ward and the laboratory and toward Jellal at the end of the long hallway, and the exit that waited at his back. He grabbed her around the shoulders and ushered her out into the dusky world.

Across the parking lot was the getaway car. It was already running. Jellal outpaced Erza and threw himself into the driver's seat seconds before the north hospital door opened and two policemen came out, their eyes on Jellal's vehicle.

Erza heard a crackling call come through on their radios as Briggs was discovered and agitation filled the air. They left at a run, re-entering the hospital the way they'd come out.

Natsu's window rolled up and Natsu came out trailing IV lines and Wendy. Both hit the ground and ran for the car. Erza arrived seconds after and tripped into the backseat. Jellal put it in drive and peeled out of there so fast, Erza had to close her door on the move.

"You were late, Erza," Wendy said.

Jellal looked at her in the mirror, at the blood on her nose and all over her chest. "She came through."

Erza felt Natsu's eyes on her while he delivered, "Sting's dead and Ultear's gone. Was Bluenote Stinger that ran us off the road."

Zeref's fist curled in his pant leg but he said nothing, only watched the world whip by. There was a violence to him; Erza suspected if he let it out, even a little, he'd have a difficult time stemming it.

* * *

As unsettling as it may have been to pull into _Halo's_ parking lot and see cruisers waiting, it was even _more_ unsettling to see that the parking lot was empty, save for the cars of a few employees. The cops being too busy to investigate made everything very, very _real_. Like the blood cool and drying on her cheeks. Erza scratched and smeared it.

She hated that feeling.

Jellal pulled all the way down the alley to the door by his office and once he'd gotten out and got the door open, he held it that way until everyone was through. Wendy disappeared without another word and Natsu and Zeref went after her. Erza looked at where they'd been for too long.

Jellal's voice on the phone startled Erza. "Miss Scarlet needs a change of clothes. Yes. My office." He hung up and lit a cigarette. He passed it to Erza who took it without hesitation. The smoke burned her mouth and her lungs. By the third time she inhaled, she stopped wanting to cough and her jitters had tapered into something manageable. She didn't even jump when the door was knocked on and the dark-skinned woman Jellal called Daphne came through with some clothing. Slacks, Erza saw, and a blue blouse and a jacket. Functional things.

"Leave your shoes," Jellal ordered Erza. "We'll clean them."

She did as she was told.

"Now go get into the shower and clean yourself up."

Erza left his side for the bathroom, where she stripped and left her clothes on the white tiled floor. The shower was hot and took all of Briggs' blood away but anytime she closed her eyes, she saw her mother wielding that sword and Briggs' head popping off and rolling over the floor.

She needed a whisky.

Erza cranked off the water, dried and dressed hurriedly.

Jellal's back was to her when she re-entered the room.

"Sit, please," Jellal said.

"Whatever you think happened in the hospital—"

Jellal looked back over his shoulder. "Erza. Sit, please."

She moved like she was made of rusty iron and all but collapsed on his couch. Jellal sat opposite of her and studied her long and hard in a dissecting way that told her _absolutely_ he knew her secrets.

She asked, "How long were you watching me and Chief Briggs?"

"Long enough."

"Jellal…"

He waited patiently for her confession. And waited while Erza stumbled and tried to think of something to fill the void with. Jellal said, "You don't have to try to think of excuses. I knew well before I caught you talking to him that you were still chatting in the Chief's ear."

Erza's first reaction was irrational. She took out her gun and pointed it at his chest.

Jellal held out his hands. "Hold on now, there isn't any need for that."

Erza ignored him. "Get rid of your gun and kneel on the floor."

"Erza—"

" _Now."_

"Very well." Jellal held her eye and moved slow, taking out the fired steel and lobbing it gently on the ground, far enough that he couldn't easily reach it. "There, better?"

"On the floor."

"This isn't necessary."

"I said _get on the floor."_

Jellal sighed and kneeled, getting face level with her gun's barrel, and touched her knees. Erza poked him in the chest with her gun to make sure he _understood_. He didn't back up despite the silent warning. "What's the plan, doll? Going to put some lead in me then drag me in for your new police chief and beg for a job?"

"I don't want to shoot you," Erza said. "Besides, the new police chief is likely to be just the same as the old." Nothing ever _changed_.

"Then what? Ring the heat? Have them lock me up? Because I thought you would have done that when we decided to go after Natsu, but you remained true."

Erza felt the tide of panic try to come for her. "You were testing me."

"I thought I could trust you, but I wanted to know for sure. Now I do." Jellal's voice was calming. "Get rid of the gun, Erza. Let's back up and start over."

Erza held his gaze steady. "Start _over_? Do you think I'm a fool? You're trying to—"

"Trick you?" he suggested. "I don't want to play games. I mean what I said, let's _move on_."

Dark brows came together. "You think I'm a fool?"

He shook his head. "Forget about it. The femme fatale always betrays the love interest but she always comes through, too, in the end. Let's skip the painful part and get to where it gets good."

"Are you yanking my chain?"

"I'm as serious as a heart attack."

Erza said, "I lied to you." Jellal snorted and Erza demanded, "Why are you laughing?"

"Erza, my love, you are not an actress. I knew you were double-dealing from the start."

"No, you didn't."

"Sure. You can't outfox the fox."

Despite the situation, Erza managed to be insulted. "I thought I did pretty well."

Jellal shook his head. "I told you your lies needed work. You're too moral. Too genuine. Anytime you have to do anything dirty, you all but shut down, worrying. It drives you crazy, and you wear all that here." Despite the gun on him, he touched her bottom lip. Erza leaned out of his touch.

"So what if I don't want to kill people? That doesn't make me a shitty liar."

"It wasn't only that. You just had an almost... religious view of the law. It isn't anything to be ashamed of," he added. "You're a good girl. You want to be honest, you think the world should be honest, and guys like me, we want to be honest around you. Call him what you will but Briggs knew that."

Said like that, Erza saw all of her interactions with Briggs in a new light. She scowled.

Jellal asked, "What'd he send you here for?"

"I'm not going to just—"

"Your Chief's dead, you watched it happen. Your mission's a bust. Who are you keeping secrets for now?"

When he put it like that… "Briggs thought you knew who the killer was and thought I could get the information out of you."

"That's why he sent such a bad liar here without a badge or a gun?" Jellal asked incredulously. "And you, Erza, just let him treat you like you were expendable."

"He didn't treat me like I was expendable," Erza said defensively despite everything. "Despite whatever flaws I have, you find me attractive. It wasn't _unreasonable_ to assume you would tell me what you knew if we became," she chose her words carefully. "Close."

"You must have been upset when you learned you knew as little as I did."

"I was hoping to be the one to catch the killer," she admitted.

Jellal sucked on his teeth. "Sorry to disappoint. Did you at least get something good for trying to get me to spill my guts?"

When she had to say it aloud, Briggs' offer didn't seem so grand. Erza dropped her eyes. "Does it matter?"

Jellal tilted her face up. "To me, the man you tried to play, yes. What was the irresistible price Briggs set?"

Didn't she owe him that much? Erza confessed, "I'd be reinstated and I'd get a desk in the bullpen. And," she added sheepishly, "I'd be able to go out on patrol."

Jellal waited as if for the _coup de grâce_. It soon became clear to him that that was all. "Wow. High-class. You get to move out of the Record's room and sit with the boys at the big table, _and_ you get to cruise around the street, dealing with the drunks and addicts and belligerents, all you had to do was sweeten me up with a kiss."

Despite her best efforts, Erza fidgeted and Jellal saw the depths of what Briggs had asked her to do. "Oh, Erza. I would have asked for a lot more than that if my Chief asked me to get on my back. Should we add negotiation skills to our lessons, too?"

"Don't say it like that."

"Like?"

"Like it's a _joke_."

"I'm not laughing," Jellal said. "It's a fucking _weak_ offer, Erza. You get to sell yourself for secrets and Briggs gives you a desk? You're worth more than that."

Tears pressed at Erza's eyes. She blinked rapidly, never letting them fall. "I wanted to be a constable."

Jellal squeezed her knees and sighed. "You should have said something from the get-go."

She swiped her cheeks. "So you could bully Briggs some more?"

"Or worse, if I had to."

"You're so..."

"Romantic?" Jellal suggested.

"Kooky," she corrected.

"I can't help it, I'm mad about you." Or just mad. He asked the big question. "Was it all a lie? Or did you at least want to be in my bed? You can tell me."

Only if her eyes were on the ground again. "I thought about it."

"That's not what I asked."

Erza huffed.

"What's that mean?"

"I don't know."

"It's yes or no."

And impossible to answer _._

Jellal touched her cheeks and searched her eyes, then leaned forward and kissed her like that was going to give him the answer he wanted. Maybe it did; he seemed so much better at communication than she was. She fumbled through and tried to use her lips in different ways to say what she wanted to.

As soon as she kissed him back, Jellal grabbed her gun and didn't give up taking it from her until he was able to throw it the same way his went, then he leaned back and swiped the corners of his mouth. "There. Doesn't telling the truth feel good?"

Yes. She nodded minutely.

Jellal smoothed her hair back from her face and swiped her cheeks dry. "We should try again. Tell me about your mother."

Erza's stomach turned hollow. "What about her?"

Jellal rocked back on his haunches and propped his elbow on his knee and put his chin in his palm. "I suppose that's a broad subject. Specifically, who she works for when she cuts the heads off people."

Erza poured herself that whisky and didn't feel at all guilty shooting it back.

"Do you have nothing to say?"

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"You could start with, ' _Jellal, I'm sorry for not mentioning my mother has been using swords and magic to cut the heads off all your favourite people._ '"

"How could I have said something? I didn't know she was a mage until this morning and I couldn't say if she's the killer. Not without _doubt_."

"Really? So what was that when you were asking me this morning about family and loyalty?"

There was Briggs again, divorced from his head. "I only started asking about that because she had Laxus' gun. I saw it on the table. I wasn't sure, though. Until I was in the hospital." Erza looked at her wrist. The flesh was a bit swollen now and black.

Jellal sighed in a way that made Erza bristle. "What would you do if it was _your_ mother?"

He seemed to take the time to _actually_ consider her words. "I'd likely keep the secret until it no longer made sense to do so." He tapped his fingers thoughtfully on his cheek. "Our mothers haven't been their best selves lately." Jellal's spine straightened.

"What is it?" Erza asked.

" _Madre's_ been secretive. All the missing money. Eileen's presence."

Erza put the pieces together. "I hate this."

"How do you think I feel? This is not the woman that raised me. She never used to be so full of guile or spite, and I don't think she ever would have dared to put a contract out on me before."

"I didn't think my mother was like this, either," Erza admitted.

"We've been duped."

"So what now?"

"I don't know. We buy train tickets and head south to my villa? Forget all this?" Jellal joked.

"That sounds nice," Erza said honestly.

"Really?"

She shrugged. "I don't have much here, do I?"

Jellal held up his finger and went to his phone. Erza listened to him spin a number in he seemed to know off by heart. He introduced himself and requested the clerk to, "Hold two train tickets to Clover under the name Scarlet."

The clerk said something. Jellal jotted a number down and hung up. He handed the paper to her. "Your reference number."

Erza took it numbly. "You'd leave?"

"My boat isn't sunk yet, Erza, but a mastermind always has a backup plan. Or several," Jellal said thoughtfully. "Perhaps as another, you can kindly ask your mother not to chop my head off?" It was so ludicrous, Erza smiled. Jellal returned it along with a promise Erza wasn't sure he could keep. "I'm not sure what tonight will bring, but I'll try not to do anything to hurt you."

Erza didn't graciously say _thank you_ , she knew what a weak offer that was. She poured herself another whisky and sipped this one. "She seems to be a proficient killer."

"Yes."

"You might not survive."

"Worried?"

She sighed. "I don't even know why. It's not like you have any redeeming qualities."

"My charm?"

"A snake oil salesman has charm. What you have is…"

"Something altogether better?"

"Or worse."

Jellal's smile fell away. "You're too good for me, Erza."

"If that were true, I wouldn't be participating in your shady deals."

"Without your influence, I likely would have let Zeref destroy the hospital."

He wasn't lying. " _Why_?"

"The police would be kept busy," he said simply.

"Really?"

"Yes. See? You're still a good person and you still make bad men want to do better things." He grew quiet. "When I was small, my father would call my mother _la mia luce."_

"What does it mean?"

"My light. He was always saying those kinds of things to her. She would blush and I would find somewhere else to be to give them privacy. I think you're _la mia luce._ "

"Are you likening me to the woman that's been planning your demise?" Erza asked.

He scrunched up his face and his tattoo curled. "Yes. It does seem flawed, you're right. If you ever get the urge to put a bullet in me, we should probably spend some time apart."

"You're a nut. And foolish."

Jellal grinned ear-to-ear. "Do you not like being my moral compass?"

"You have no morals to need a compass, Jellal Fernandez," Erza said without any real heat.

"That's not true. I've never killed a soul that hasn't deserved it."

"With that mentality, you're certain to go to heaven."

"I don't need heaven. The only thing I need is a beach where the summers come early and a dame I know to show me this bikini she's promised me she has. After that, I'll walk through the Devil's gates, no questions asked."

"You're despicable."

"But you already knew that."

Jellal's door was tapped on. He stood. "Enter."

Daphne came back through. "Mister Fernandez, I've checked everywhere but I think Mister Makarov is gone."

Jellal shook his head. "That fool."


	20. Chapter 20

Overhead was a ceiling the same colour green as mashed peas. It was ugly. Bright, too, despite the fact that the only light was the streetlights coming through the windows and the single fluorescent tube overhead.

There was a water stain there where the vinyl ceiling tiles clicked together. Gray stared at it and adjusted to his surroundings.

He was in the hospital.

 _Because…_

Because he'd been shot in the stomach.

He waited to feel pain but didn't, oddly. He poked the area and still felt nothing.

 _Am I dead?_ Or, perhaps worse, had he been in the hospital for so long, unconscious, that he had _healed_?

"You've been visited by a healer," said a familiar and smoky voice.

His heart was _pounding_. Gray lifted his head. "Miss Belserion."

She stepped into the room and her smile became clear. "Mister Fullbuster."

Gray didn't know what else to say so he said _nothing_ while she crossed to his side and sat directly on the bed. She smelled like cloves and iron and leaned in to adjust the pillow beneath his head. "We have some things to talk about."

"We do?" Gray wasn't sure if ignorance was going to work for him.

She held up her finger. Her nail was long and red and curling. "My necklace, for one thing. I should like it back. It was a gift."

Like he couldn't help himself, Gray blurted, "It's in evidence."

"So you'll remove it." She left very little room for argument on the matter. "And I'd like you to burn that file your chief kept on me _before_ his office is gone through."

"What? Why would it be—"

"He had an accident," she said simply.

Gray's heart squeezed harder.

"First, though, before any of that, I'm going to need you to go to Mister Gaebolg's property on Vesper Avenue. You know the one?"

"The leather shop?"

"Yes, exactly. I imagine there will be quite a bit of carnage by the time you arrive, but once you're there, you'll find the true murderer, the one that's been," she mimed slicing at her throat. "He'll confess to you. Arrest him and put this case to bed, it's over."

"But—"

Brightly, she said, "Do all of that for me and I'll forget that Ultear said such awful things about me."

Gray started to sit up. She grabbed his throat and pressed her thumb in, blocking off his air. "There are a handful of other policemen that will do this if you choose to not, ones that don't know my secret, that I wouldn't have to depend upon to _keep silent_. What you're getting here, right now, is a chance, Mister Fullbuster, on account of the history you and Erza share and the difficult days Erza has ahead of her. Don't fuck up."

Gray croaked, "You're asking me to arrest an innocent man—"

"He's many things but innocent isn't one of them. Do your job. Hurry now, or the party will be finished before you have a chance to arrive." She stood and left, passing by a frazzled-looking Bacchus appearing at the door.

"Miss Belserion," he spat out. She didn't acknowledge him. Bacchus watched her drift down the hallway until he couldn't see her anymore, then brought his attention to Gray. "Are you alive?"

"What do you think?" Gray sat up and started pulling IV lines out of his arms.

"Woah, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"We have to get to Precht's building on Vesper. Now."

"You can't go anywhere, you just had a slug taken out of your gut—"

Gray pulled at the bandage on his side. Bacchus looked horrified until he saw the pale skin beneath, with only a scar to mark the damage.

"What the fuck?"

"Healer," he said.

"Why'd you get a visit from a healer when I got a shitty cast, huh?"

He didn't have any answers. "Are you good to come or should I just go?"

"By yourself?" Bacchus asked. "No. I'm coming. Are you going to explain what the hell we're doing, though?"

Gladly. He didn't want to be the only one carrying the weight of this decision.

* * *

Just when Laxus had gotten used enough to the cold wall behind his back to close his eyes and drift asleep, the metal door squealed open and someone was shoved inside the small room Precht deemed acceptable for his winner.

Laxus peeked between his lashes and identified Ultear on the floor. Half of her hair was glossy and wet with blood, the other looked dusty, and her clothes were soiled in much the same way.

Ultear pushed herself up on her forearms and yelled at the man that had thrown her in. "Fuck yourself. You're going to _hell._ I'm going to take your fucking eyes from your head and—"

The door slammed, making her threats useless.

" _Fuck_."

"Easy, eh? My head's splitting."

Ultear sat her butt flat on the floor and folded her legs out to the side so she almost looked like a frog. Or a kid, lost. She pressed at her temples. "Shit."

"You're looking rough."

Ultear looked at him. "Fuck off, Laxus."

"What happened?"

"Stupid Jellal. I _told_ him not to send the Den after me but he didn't fucking listen, and our car was run off the fucking road."

"And Daddy brought you here."

She huffed. "Obviously."

"Crossing Precht was bad news," Laxus muttered. "I told Jellal that."

"When has Jellal ever done anything any way but the way he wants?" Ultear asked.

"When you tell him not to."

She frowned. "That's not true."

"Yeah, it is. He trusts your judgement. When you didn't tell him busting into Sentence Six was a bad idea, he got it in his head that this would _work_." They both knew it to be true. "Why did you go along with it?"

Ultear sighed from her nose but was otherwise silent.

"No sense in lying," Laxus told her. "Not when we're about to meet our makers."

She said, "I guess because the other option was worse."

"Yeah?"

"I saw something I wasn't supposed to one night when I was walking back from Meredy's. I'm there passing Lucky's, minding my own business and this guy gets his head cut off."

"You saw the killer?"

"Oh, yeah, Eileen fucking Belserion and her fucking sword."

"The Sorceress?"

Ultear snorted. "Sure. The Sorceress."

"She didn't try to kill you for spotting her?"

Ultear shook her head. "My father told her not to bother, that I'd be more useful alive. I think he liked the idea of having me on a short chain after I left and started working for Jellal."

"You should have said something."

"Yeah? If I said something to Jellal, he'd act and they'd know it was me. Guess what happens to Ultear if he didn't come out on top?"

"Looking out for number one, eh?"

"I thought you'd appreciate that, Laxus," Ultear said.

He did, for sure, though it was looking like they'd both chosen the wrong routes to ensure they didn't get burned.

Ultear said, "I tried to lead Gray to the prize but… Well. Here we are."

The door opened and Precht came through with a nurse who had a torch, a shaver, and a long piece of metal. "Yes, here you are. I told you, Ultear, if you're going to try to play long games, make sure you have your game pieces set up beforehand, otherwise, nothing works out the way you planned."

Ultear ignored his advice, eyes on the metal poker. "The fuck is that for?"

"To cauterize your wound," he told her.

"Pardon?" Ultear spat.

"It hasn't stopped bleeding. How are you going to fight if you can't stand for blood loss?"

"You want me to fight?"

He laughed. "Why else would you be in here?"

Laxus saw where this was going well before Ultear did, whether because of her head injury or because she didn't want to believe it. "No."

"Yes, Mister Dreyar."

Ultear looked back over her shoulder and glared at Laxus, catching on. "Him? You want me to fight him?"

"Yes. Win and you get a bullet and not a rat in a heated cage on your belly."

"What?" Ultear asked again.

Precht's good eye glowed. "I hadn't heard of it either but my dear friend Acnologia told me of it the other evening over a bottle of scotch. It's simple. You lie supine, strapped down on a table, I put a rat in a cage here," he tapped his middle. "And then I take my torch," which he grabbed from the nurse and sparked to life, "And heat the metal until the rat is dying to get out. There will be only one opening in the cage, though, and that will be into your belly. It'll gnaw its way through."

Ultear looked at him blankly. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. I imagine it's painful. An excellent deterrent for traitors. To be honest, the thought even makes me a little squeamish, which is why you have the chance of winning a bullet if you win your fight." He said it like he was benevolent.

"Forget it," Laxus said. "We're not getting in the ring together. Give me someone else."

"If you won't fight, you'll definitely die. Ultear won't hold back, will you?"

Ultear refused to meet his eye. Laxus sighed and put his head back against the wall. "You're a sick fuck, Precht."

"Men of grand ambition have been called such names all throughout history." Precht waved the nurse forward. Laxus closed his eyes against the blue glow of the torch fire hitting the end of the steel poker. He heard Ultear stagger to her feet.

"You're not coming near me with that."

"It's for your own benefit," Precht said reasonably.

"No."

"If you won't cooperate, you'll be forced."

" _No_ ," Ultear reiterated.

"Bluenote," Precht called and the door opened.

Laxus peeked between his lashes, unable to help himself. Bluenote stalked Ultear like a predator, faster than she could hope to be as she was. He caught her up against the wall and pinned her there for the nurse to come forward with the razor and the poker. Large chunks of her hair fell away. Ultear started writhing. When that didn't work, she screamed. The sound rang off the concrete walls and made Laxus' ears hurt.

Burning hair and cauterizing flesh and blood met Laxus' nose. He breathed shallowly. Ultear's screams petered away for crying and when the nurse was done, Bluenote stepped away and she fell to the floor where she was, glassy-eyed, wet-cheeked, and dazed. A large part of her hair was cut out and the flesh beneath was charred closed.

"We'll be back in a couple of hours," Precht said.

"So soon?" Laxus asked.

"Why waste time? I'd like this matter dealt with as promptly as possible."

Precht reached for the door; Laxus stopped him. "You promised me breakfast, too, if I beat Kane."

Precht glared before leaving, the door slamming behind him and his entourage.

After a moment of silence, Laxus took the cigarettes and whisky Precht had given him and gave them to Ultear. She stared at his offer for a long time. Laxus scooted over and put the bottle in her hand. Only then did she tighten her hold and sip from the elongated glass neck.

Laxus lit a cigarette for himself and inhaled deeply. "Can you even stand?"

"Not if I keep drinking whisky," Ultear muttered and took another deep swig.

Or even before that, he'd bet. She looked haggard in a way Ultear _never_ did. "I'm going to destroy you in that ring."

That earned Laxus a spiteful look.

"It's just biology," he told her. "I'm bigger than you."

"Thought you didn't want to fight me?"

"I want to get my guts eaten by a rat even less."

"That makes both of us."

"So we're going to go down swinging."

"Do you see another option?" Ultear asked.

"Guess not."

He pushed his cigarette at her. Ultear took it from his hand and didn't show any signs of returning it. He lit another and let his eyes slide closed again.

Laxus couldn't say how long passed when the door reopened and Rusty came through with a tray of food. He dropped it on the ground in front of Laxus and said, "Consider that your last meal."

"Thanks."

Rusty left again.

"I can't stand the smell of that food right now," Ultear complained.

"I guess then I don't have to feel bad about not sharing." Laxus lifted the steel cover his plate was hidden beneath and dropped it again just as fast.

Ultear turned her head and cracked her bleary eyes. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Slipped out of my hand," Laxus informed her. Ultear shook her head and went back to pseudo-sleeping. "Hurry up and eat so I don't have to smell it."

He lifted the lid again, more carefully this time.

* * *

Jellal knew when Zeref passed on the news of Sting because the skies opened up in a torrent of rain that could be heard through the walls of _Halo_.

"The skies were clear," Erza protested.

"Juvia," Jellal said. "She's upset."

Erza began to pace. Jellal watched her and schemed for several long moments. Finally, Erza asked, "When do we leave?"

"As soon as Zeref comes through that door and tells me he's ready to go," Jellal told her, and tagged on, "You don't have to come."

"Of course, I don't." She made a circle and came back around again. "But what else am I going to do? Sit here and wonder what's happening? I'll go mad."

"Have you thought any more about your mother?"

She came to a halt and propped her hands on her hips. "That's _all_ I've thought about. What am I supposed to do, though, tell the police so they can arrest her?" She gnawed on her lip. "God. What if Briggs told other people, too? What if there are men out there right now looking for her? What if she's getting arrested?" And worse, "What if she's killing them?"

"Chief Briggs was the kind of man that kept his secrets secret until he knew what he was dealing with," Jellal told her. "It's likely that he found the file and worked on his suspicions in private."

She looked so relieved that she could cry again. Then she looked disgusted with herself. She yelled in frustration and started pacing again.

"Another whisky?" Jellal offered.

Erza spun on him so fast, he thought she was going to get violent but she snatched his glass from his hand and drank it back. "Easy," Jellal told her. "If you want to come with us, you should be at least a bit sober."

"Then don't offer me booze." Erza dropped the empty glass to the table again and shook her hair back from her shoulders. "Okay. Tell me again. All of it."

"We've gone through it a hundred times, Erza," Jellal said. "You know the plan well enough."

"I know but—"

"Everything will be fine."

"And if it's not?"

"You have all the advantage," Jellal said. "Your immune on all sides. If Precht gets the upper hand, your mother will ensure nothing happens to you, and if I do, it'll be the same."

She still looked agitated. Jellal went to her and smoothed her hair back from her face. "Do you want to go to my villa? I can come for you when this is over."

"Come with me," she said automatically. It seemed she'd had time to get used to the idea of leaving Magnolia. Jellal laughed; Erza scowled. "What's so funny?"

"Think, I can have everything I want, I just have to give up everything I have."

Erza gripped his fingers hard. "It's not so bad, once you've done it."

"Spoken like someone who's never been as greedy as I have."

She turned away from him and started pacing again. The second time she came by, Jellal grabbed her wrist and pulled her in. He kissed her and was still kissing her when his door opened and Zeref came through.

"We're ready," Zeref said with little preamble. Jellal looked at him over Erza's shoulder.

"Juvia and Rogue are alright?"

"Angry," Zeref said.

"Good. Get downstairs and get guns, and whatever else you think we need."

Zeref left; the door closed behind him. Jellal leaned back so he could look at Erza directly. "I changed my mind."

"About what?" Erza asked.

"I'm going to send you with Zeref."

"Why?"

"Because I trust you."

"You think he's planning something?"

"I think Zeref's _always_ planning something," Jellal said.

"Why?"

"He hasn't really been himself lately." Too docile. Taking things on the chin too readily. Wendy's waywardness, Sting's death. Natsu's recent stint in the hospital. The old Zeref wouldn't have waited for Jellal's plan. Nor would he have let Jellal call the shots. He would have rushed in there with guns blazing and taken his brother back without all of the rigmarole.

"Don't let him get the jump on you. If he tries anything…" He tried to choose his words carefully, not wanting to scare her away.

"I'll do what I have to."

"Right." He kissed her and touched her, too. It seemed the shorter his time ran, the more he wanted to stay right there as they were. "We put those tickets under Scarlet, right?"

Erza squeezed his shoulders. "Are you reconsidering my offer?"

"To have you like this for a little longer, I would consider a great many things."

She wriggled out of his grasp and got a few feet between them. "Don't joke."

Jellal looked away from her body and straightened his tie, then he willed his erection away. "You're right, I suppose. It's show time."

Erza turned on her heel without any other provocation. Jellal fell into step behind her and watched her while she walked. She fixed her hair, smoothed her suit jacket, checked her gun and by the time she was done, she seemed to be much more relaxed, despite the situation.

He wasn't sure she _could_ run away for some quiet life in his villa, she'd always been in the middle of the action, had craved it. Maybe she could do it for some time, but eventually, she'd go searching for trouble again, as was her way.

Jellal stepped out in front of her and grabbed the door to the basement. With it opened, dank air laden with the scent of gun oil drifted up. Erza hesitated at the top of the dark stairway like _this_ was the point of no return. He took her hand and led her down.

The fluorescent lights were on and the voices from the Den's members drifted up from below. Most clearly was Angel's saying, "If Lucy's going, I want to go with you, too."

"You _can't_ , Angel."

"Yes—"

" _No,_ and don't make me tell you why."

Angel grunted, frustrated. "I hate this."

Zeref's voice dropped to a tone Jellal rarely heard from him. Soft, pleading. "Just stay here, you and the baby. We'll be back before you know it and everything will be fine."

Angel was pregnant.

The unease Jellal felt grew. There was nothing more dangerous than a desperate man with everything to lose.

He peeped under the line of the ceiling and saw Zeref and Angel standing toe-to-toe in front a crate of Tommy's. To Angel's side was Natsu, Lucy and Wendy and behind her was Rogue. Juvia wasn't anywhere to be seen but Jellal could hear her rifling through bullets.

Everyone seemed very involved in what they were doing. At the bottom of the stairs, when still no one had noticed his presence, Jellal lifted his voice to carry through the storage room. "Should you be down here, Angel?"

All eyes turned his way. Angel, ever argumentative, answered. "Should you be minding your own business, Jellal?"

"I'm just worried about you. How are you going to get back up?" It was an honest concern.

Angel's cheeks went red with fury and Jellal wondered if she was about to try to tear _Halo_ apart with those creatures she called angels.

"I'm going to take her," Wendy said.

"And stay with her," Zeref added.

Though she'd armed herself like she was going along, guns stuck into her suspenders, knives in the waistband of her pants, Wendy knew better than to challenge Zeref's decree. Jellal, however, was not as concerned.

"You surprise me, Zeref, I would have thought you'd send her with Natsu."

Zeref responded, "She's tired."

"Too tired to make sure Natsu's doing fine?"

Zeref stared at him deprecatingly. "She's my only healer. I want her safe. Go on, Wendy."

Wendy took Angel's forearm and put it over her shoulder. "No grievers," she told Zeref.

"No grievers." Zeref looked at Angel, clearly expecting her to say the same. She leaned forward and put a kiss on his cheek in response.

Juvia finally emerged from the crates. Her cheeks and nose were red from tears but her voice was strong. "Say it back. It's bad luck."

"This shitty job is bad luck. We'd all be better off if we just let things be." Angel made sure to look at Jellal on the last. Was that a warning in her voice? He could never be sure with Angel; she was a hard girl to get a read on.

Natsu hugged her briefly around the shoulders and despite her displeasure, said, "No grievers."

"Fuck off." Angel pushed him away. Wendy caught her before she could teeter off balance and guided her upstairs.

"Forget about her," Zeref told Natsu. "Just focus."

"Yeah," Natsu agreed, though he looked ruffled.

"Your head's good?"

"Fine."

While they spoke, Jellal grabbed guns out of crates, pistols and rifles. He handed some to Erza and kept some for himself. He loaded up on bullets, too. One couldn't have too much ammunition.

Pockets leaden, he led the way across the room, falling into step beside Zeref. "You'll take Erza, Lucy and Natsu. I'll take Juvia and Rogue."

"I was supposed to go with you," Zeref said.

"Yeah, well I thought about it and it makes more sense to split up the teams like this," Jellal said. "You four take the south entrance and meet up with the other two, me, Juvia and Rogue will go north and find my father."

"You'll want more people than that."

"I think we'll be more than enough."

Zeref searched him like he was looking for subterfuge. Jellal didn't rush him along.

"If things work out for you, I want what's left of Grimoire Heart," Zeref bargained at last, "That includes any side businesses. Sentence Six, Vesper. All of it."

"It's yours," Jellal said. He'd just burn it to the ground.

"And our slate is clean. I owe you nothing. Neither do any of my people."

"We'll be even," Jellal agreed. "Everyone get's a get out of jail free card."

Zeref yanked open the passenger's side door of Jellal's Model 48 and shoved Natsu into the middle; Lucy crawled into his lap. Once they were situated, he got in. Jellal took the driver's seat; Erza and Juvia got into the back while Rogue lifted the rollup door.

Nighttime air rushed into _Halo_ 's underground _,_ bringing with it the smell of fresh rain and the sounds of Magnolia. Factories on this side of town with their doors rolled open so the cool air could come in, cars on the highway, laughter reaching them from the entertainment district and, very faintly, the sound of gunfire. Jellal wondered if that was Precht's people taking care of more resistance or if it was something unrelated. It wasn't uncommon for there to be disagreement at the docks.

Jellal pulled out of the garage. Rogue dropped the door. As soon as it hit the ground, a blot of shadow snuck from underneath. Almost faster than they could follow, it caught up with the Model 48 and poured in through the rear window.

Rogue reformed in the backseat between Juvia and Erza. Jellal checked the rear-view to see if Erza was startled but she was looking out the window and doing whatever it was that she did when she was getting ready for some violence.

It was too quiet in the car with only the sound of the road, Lucy's plucking through her keys and Juvia's residual sniffling.

"Music, I think," Jellal said and turned on the radio. It was Johnny Cash baritoning, _'Don't take your guns to town, son.'_ Jellal let it go on for a minute, then his skin was crawling. "Something more upbeat." It felt stupid and superstitious but Jellal was, at the heart of things, his father's son, and his father was raised in a superstitious culture.

Frank Sinatra Jr. came on singing,

 _From a tugboat on the river goin' slow_

 _A cement bag, it is dropping down_

 _Yeah, the cement is just for the weight, dear_

 _You can make a large bet Macheath is back in town_

The only thing Jellal wanted to do with cement bags was throw them overboard himself.

The music continued.

 _My man Louie Miller, he split the scene, babe_

 _After drawin' out all the bread from his stash_

 _Now Macheath spends just like a pimp, babe_

 _Do you suppose that our boy, he did something rash?_

Jellal decelerated as they turned onto Vesper. "I'll go to the south side first."

Erza checked the guns Jellal had given her and when she was satisfied, she straightened her spine and breathed in and held her breath, then slowly released it again. Lucy's fingers were clenching so hard, they turned white. Natsu grabbed at the cuff of her shirt and tugged it with the beat of the music. Even Zeref seemed disquieted, rubbing his hands on his pants.

Jellal checked the rear-view mirror again to gauge Juvia and Rogue's demeanors. Juvia's eyes were closed and her hands were clenched around a necklace she wore. Though her lips moved silently, Jellal knew she spoke prayers. She clenched Rogue's hand like it was a lifeline. Rogue's jaw was fused shut and there was sweat pricking his brow.

Something was wrong.

Jellal couldn't decide _what_ , though, before the nose of the car dipped and they fell _through_ the road. Lucy's scream was piercing and continued through the several foot drop, stopping only when they hit the ground and smacked into a cement wall at parking lot speeds. The front of the Model 48 bent and the radiator popped and the large, damp hallway they dropped into filled with white puffy smoke that made Jellal want to cough.

"What the hell was that?" Lucy chirruped, though how she spoke with Natsu gripping her so tight, Jellal didn't know.

"The welcome mat." Jellal got out with his gun drawn. The hallway was empty. "The Sorceress is playing with us." And he didn't like it.

Natsu and Lucy exited. "What now?"

"The plan's unchanged," Jellal decided. "You all know your parts."

He took Erza's hand when she got out and pulled her in for an impromptu hug so he could whisper in her ear lowly in her ear. "If you need to shoot Zeref, you'll have to shoot Natsu, too. In that order. Zeref and then Natsu. Understand?" To deviate would be a disaster.

She nodded almost imperceptivity. Jellal squished Erza's face between his palms and kissed her once. Then he focused because he felt like there were eyes on him in the abandoned tunnel.

* * *

Despite the thick concrete walls separating the fight rings from the room Precht used as an infirmary, Laxus could hear the raucous calls of Precht's patrons as another fight went on. Judging by the gasps and _ooohs_ , it wasn't a very tasteful one. Each time a voice rose, Laxus' adrenaline would spike. Eventually, it stopped.

Minutes passed. Then the metal door swung open and Precht entered again, a big, fat cigar in his hand and a cruel smile on his face. Two men trailed behind him, both with rifles unashamedly aimed.

"Is it time?" Laxus asked.

"Yes. Come." Precht took Ultear by the bicep and wrenched her up. She dropped an elbow into his gut and wriggled out of his hold. Precht's smile grew. "I hope you changed your mind about fighting, Laxus. She's in a mood."

Without responding, Laxus got up and followed Ultear out, slower. She knew the way without being told, rounding the corner and stepping through the already open doors.

Laxus flexed his aching hands. They were still stained with Kane's blood and would be wet again soon if Precht had his way.

Once the light of the arena touched him, the crowd started roaring. Over that sound, Laxus thought there was a distant _bang_ on the south side of Precht's rings, like the crunching sound of metal. There were so many tunnels and rooms that mazed out from this spot, though, that he couldn't say where it came from or what it meant, not without seeing a clock.

The thoughts fled his mind once he got closer to the ring and saw just what it was that made Precht smile so meanly. There was little Makarov Dreyar, bloodied and battered, sitting right there on the floor in front of the ring. There was someone lying on the ground in front of him, a knife protruding from his chest.

"Your grandfather's opponent," Precht explained.

"You put him in there?" Laxus asked because his brain just wouldn't _connect_ the evidence _._

"He came in here demanding your release, Laxus," Precht said. "When I told him no, he tried to shoot me. I thought this would be a fitting end. My old friend is still wily, though. Did you know he still keeps a knife in the sole of his shoe? I didn't even think to check." Precht laughed.

Laxus lunged. His escorts grabbed his arms and hauled him back. When his struggling proved useless, Laxus spat. It hit Precht right in the cheek and slid down to dribble on his shoes. "You're a fucking dead man, you understand? You're _dead._ "

"Win your fight, Mister Dreyar. Then we'll see."

Ultear clambered into the ring. Laxus was pushed in after her. Rusty was there again, asking them both, "Do you understand the rules?"

Laxus pushed him off. He may have said _Go_ but Laxus didn't much hear it.

Ultear lunged. Laxus dodged her and positioned himself in the ring so he could check the clock on the wall. Three-thirty.

Ultear came at him again, swinging. She had a hard right hook that threw Laxus off balance. He fell against the ropes and was afraid that they'd give out and he'd keep going.

Someone on the other side of the ring pushed him forward again and into Ultear's waiting elbow. Her hit landed badly against Laxus' jaw and both of them were in pain.

She recovered and lifted her knee into his middle. Laxus grabbed her leg and shoved her back hard enough that she skidded and fell. Once he was unencumbered, Laxus pulled the gun slipped onto his plate from his pocket and the world went startlingly quiet. Ultear stopped, the crowd paused. Laxus cared about Precht, though, who stood and grabbed Makarov up as well. He took a gun from his holster and laid it to Makarov's temple.

"Clever, Laxus, getting a gun, but those weren't the rules. Give it up now and finish your fight and I won't make you watch him die."

"I can make this shot," Laxus lifted his voice to be heard in the spacious room.

"I'm sure you could. Your grandfather will suffer, though, I have friends that will ensure it. Don't be foolish, now. Get rid of the gun and finish your fight."

Laxus' palms were sweaty. Ultear had gotten back on her feet but she wasn't doing anything, not yet. She was waiting to see what Laxus' next move was.

"Mister Dreyar thinks I'm playing. Go get the cage and the rat. We'll give him some incentive to keep going," Precht told one of the men by his side.

Makarov looked at Laxus and nodded minutely, his meaning clear. Precht thought he could use Makarov as leverage and the Dreyars had never been very agreeable. Laxus hardened his resolve and did what he, at one time, thought himself incapable of doing—pointed his gun and squeezed the trigger and proved Precht wrong.

* * *

A/N: This is darker than the first I think, and it was kind of gross to write and didn't flow as well as I had hoped it would but that's the best I can do at this time.

We're coming up on the end (take two). Thanks for double-reading, everyone. In a place like fanfiction where the general reader wants cute fluff, I'm really flattered and appreciative of those that stick around in this dwindling fandom for my gross and at times sloppy storytelling. _Merci_


	21. Chapter 21

Most of Erza's party members walked through the hollow, empty tunnels confidently and purposefully. Natsu and Zeref? Not a chip on their shoulders. Lucy, however, was the giveaway. Her steps were halted and she nervously twisted her keys through her fingers. Jellal was right, there was something going on with the Den. She checked over her shoulder. Only tunnel. And ahead. The same. If there was an ambush, it wasn't here.

Erza realized she was being left behind. "Wait!"

"No time, keep up."

Erza flexed her grip on her gun and lengthened her steps. She had both Zeref and Natsu in her sights and Jellal's words were spinning through her mind. Kill Zeref then Natsu. Because of the two, Zeref was the more unpredictable one. She had no illusions, she'd have to kill Natsu shortly after, but she might have a chance at that.

And then what about Lucy? She didn't want to think about that fallout. Or what Lucy might do to avenge her beau.

Zeref stopped by a large metal door and listened through for a moment. He waved Natsu over and fire spun in the centre of Natsu's palm. Erza felt the heat from it and wondered if Jellal was wrong—if she shouldn't kill Natsu first. Burning alive seemed like a terrible way to die.

The smell of smouldering iron filled the air, pungent. Erza watched silver runners of molten metal streaked down the door and puddle on the floor where it could cool and reharden. In no time, the lock was melted away and Natsu pushed the door open. On the other side was a tray of food, half-eaten, a mostly-empty bottle of whisky, and the smell of burning skin; it clung to the walls and filled Erza's nose.

"Ultear," Natsu said. "And Laxus."

Zeref nodded and turned on his heel, shoving past Erza. She caught herself on the door that still held most of the heat from Natsu's fire. She stood immediately and avoided getting burned. "Where are you going?"

"If they're not in here, they're in the ring," Zeref said. He looked more agitated than usual.

"Together?" Erza asked.

"Of course."

Natsu swore and broke into a run. His urgency was catching. Erza fell into step behind him and behind her was Lucy and Zeref.

The hallway sloped, making her footsteps seem exaggerated and staggered. Erza didn't dare slow; she didn't want to be left behind.

Natsu seemed to know exactly where he was going, making a sharp left down a much smaller corridor, at the top of which was two guards. Erza saw flames spark in Natsu's hand and watched it catch the guards from the hem of their pants and up. Despite the fire, they started shooting. Most of the gunfire went wild, but one bullet smacked into the wall beside Erza's ear, so close, she felt bits of concrete hit her skin and was momentarily deaf. That seemed to stress Zeref out more. Dark magic came from his hands and tore the guards apart without mercy. There were no more shots after that.

Erza stared at the mess numbly. Lucy was sweat-slicked and pale. Natsu took her hand and grimly promised, "Bullets next time."

"Hurry up." Zeref walked through the macabre scene without a second thought and pushed the doors open.

Bright light hit her eyes and the sharp ring of a gunshot hit her ears. She lifted her gun and squinted to see. First, her eyes focused on Laxus standing on the stage with the gun Jellal had given Mira in his hand, Ultear beside him, clenching the ropes of the ring, next her attention was snagged by a falling man. Makarov Dreyar, with a small hole in his forehead. The backside of his head would look worse if the spray of blood on Precht was anything to go by.

There was a pregnant pause and then the room erupted in chaos. People started running in every direction. Erza was pushed back against the wall by a very large and sweaty man and kept there by a sea of bodies rushing to vacate the stadium. More gunshots were fired. Erza tried pushing ahead to see who was firing at whom but any time she tried, she was jarred. The last time she met with someone's shoulder, she was pushed to the ground and stepped on by what felt like a hundred feet.

She knew the danger immediately, she was going to get trampled to death, but she couldn't see a way out. All around was stomping feet. Someone kicked her temple and Erza saw stars.

Desperate, she fired her gun upwards in hopes of scaring people away. It worked for a moment. She looked backwards and saw Lucy against the wall. She had out her keys and her eyes were closed. There was a flash of golden light and then Erza felt herself getting picked up and transported. She was dropped back against the wall by a massive goat-man.

"Thank you, Capricorn," Lucy said loudly and dismissed him. "Are you okay?" she yelled in Erza's ear; Erza barely heard her over the noise.

"Yes." Nothing was broken, anyway, and she wasn't dead, so how could she complain? And the crowd was dissipating. What was left was barren stands full of garbage, floors slicked with drinks and two trampled bodies, one of a boy no older than sixteen, and one of a woman who had surrounded herself with furs. There were others dead, too, men that Erza assumed had been Precht's guards, though those had efficiently been shot in the head or chest by Dragneel bullets.

She looked back at the ring. Laxus had dropped down behind it and was holding his gun with the nose pointed to the ceiling, listening and watching for enemies. He glanced at Erza, Lucy, and then Natsu and Zeref on the other side of the room, and Ultear behind him, telling her, "Go."

Ultear shook her head. Laxus hissed at her again and she hunkered down lower, making her stance.

Erza watched him dismiss her and refocus. When he lifted his voice, it was so loud, it made Erza jump. "Come out, Precht! I know you're still in here. Show yourself."

"Was that Miss Scarlet I saw out there?" Precht's voice came from nowhere Erza could discern.

Laxus glanced back at Erza. "She's here."

"As per my agreement with your mother, Miss Scarlet, you may leave. Walk out of this place with immunity for as long as your mother and I are allies."

"I don't condone what my mother's doing." Erza was glad her voice came out strong. "I don't need the immunity or favours."

"If you decline and you remain, you give me no choice but to treat you as my enemy."

"So be it."

The pressure in the room changed and the hair on the back of Erza's neck stood on end. She hunted for the source and found it in the form of a massively growing ball of magic. She lifted her gun and aimed and squeezed off three shots. Her aim was perfect, she knew, but her bullets didn't go anywhere. It was like they hit a barrier and fell to the ground, useless.

The ball of magic burgeoned and swelled and the first of what was many magical projectiles erupted from its core.

"Get down!" Natsu yelled and everyone dropped to the floor. Erza pulled Lucy behind the stadium and together they huddled in hopes of outlasting the barrage. It went on for what felt like minutes and when finally, it was over, the north corner of the fight ring broke apart. That wasn't the only casualty. A piece of the stadium fell to the floor, something wooden croaked, one of the lights overhead swung on its last wire and then crashed to the ground in a gush of glass.

Then silence. Eventually, it was punctuated by a voice. "Come out, Laxus, if you can."

Erza peeked around the edge of the stadium. Laxus and Ultear were still huddled behind the ring. Laxus was gripping his bleeding leg and looking pale. Ultear asked him a question. He tried to stand and his leg gave out.

"Laxus?" Precht goaded. "Are you dead?"

Laxus lifted his voice. "Not a chance, old man."

"Then you're feeling cowardly?"

Laxus muttered something to Ultear and she gave him a drab look. She held out her hand. She wanted Laxus' gun. He shook his head. While they silently argued about that, Erza peeked around the stadium again in an attempt to spot Precht. She couldn't see him but thought the corner space by the back exit was a little darker than everywhere else.

Erza aimed her gun and fired. Immediately following the rapport, whatever had been hiding Precht dissipated and he clenched his arm. He had no problem zeroing in on Erza's location. She squeezed off more rounds in an attempt to disrupt whatever it was he was going to do. Once again, her bullets went nowhere useful.

Erza reloaded. She was locking the clip in place when something cold punched through her chest. It didn't hurt, exactly, it just felt _wrong_. She looked down and saw the sharpened edges of a chain of what she could only call _light_ , and then felt her body get jerked away from a yelling Lucy.

She was pulled over broken glass and dragged through sticky pop and crumbs of popcorn and spent cigarette butts, and then she was lifted into the air and slammed against the wall hard, twice.

Dazedly, she slipped to the ground. The chain of light disappeared from her chest and everything got incredibly cold. _Does that mean I'm dying_ , she wondered and blinked to try to clear her hazy vision.

She saw ice. At first, she was confused because she didn't see Gray but then Ultear slipped into view trailing ice crystals. Nothing was much _clearer_ after that but she figured that that wasn't the cold grips of death closing on her, at least not yet.

Another barrage of magical projectiles filled the stadium. Erza curled in on herself and turned toward the wall for protection. Ultear yelled something incomprehensible. Black tendrils and fire joined the fray. The air soaked in magic and then

Everything stopped.

Someone stepped over glass to her right. "Well. This is _not_ the evening we talked about."

Her mother, the showstopper, had arrived. Erza peeked through her lashes. Eileen had her hand extended to catch a projectile that would have assuredly skewered Erza to the wall. She squeezed and the magic vanished. "You surprise me, Erza. I thought you would have been with Jellal. And you, Zeref. The last time we spoke, you informed me that you would be with the group going to see Acnologia."

"They changed plans last minute," Zeref said from somewhere to Erza's right. "I couldn't get word."

"To throw us off, no doubt. That Fernandez boy is tricky." Eileen smiled the smile Erza didn't recognize. "Now we have to rely on Rogue and Juvia and Acnologia to do their jobs, and Anna to not interfere."

Zeref stepped from behind the stadium on the other side of the room. "They'll pull through."

"You're working together?" Erza blurted.

"We have a common goal," Eileen replied. "Topple the king."

"And to topple the king, we have to take out his pawns. I know it's unsavoury business, Eileen, but step aside and let me finish here," Precht spoke.

"You're no longer part of this pact," Eileen said simply.

"Pardon?"

"Everyone has agreed, you've violated our agreements one too many times and you're too unpredictable. Like Acnologia must, you will die tonight. What's left of Grimoire will be signed to us by your beneficiary, Ultear Milkovich. She, of course, will get a small profit, too."

"You can't—"

"I can. Anna agrees. This is a better deal."

Precht's neck muscles flexed when he clenched his jaw. "I never knew you to be such a traitor."

"I'm not typically. I made a special concession for this occasion because you're such a bastard."

"How dare you?" Precht lifted his hand. Erza tensed, thinking he had a gun or something, but he pulled his eyepatch from his eye. She couldn't look away. There was a void there and not the regular eye-is-missing sort. The kind that led to _beyond_. Magic sloughed off him in sickening waves.

"Enough." Eileen only lifted her hand and Precht's eye exploded in blood. He gasped and clapped his hand over it, staunching the flow and whatever magic he was summoning.

"Do you know why no one deals with you, Gaebolg?" Eileen queried calmly. "Why Makarov sold to Jellal and not you? Why, when I asked Zeref to renege on his deal, he did _gladly_ , why Anna was willing to stab you in the back once she was in the position to take back control of her life?" She hardly gave him a moment to sputter and huff. "It's because you're a bastard. You've broken every deal you've ever made once you thought you had control over the participants, you betrayed every friend you ever had. You _threw_ your own daughter in a fight ring with a man twice her size, for god's sake, as _punishment._ You're an animal. I mean, Laxus would rather shoot his own flesh and blood in the head than give you a means to control him.

"I imagine you _knew_ somewhere in that thick skull of yours that this would catch up with you, but you tried to play the odds. Sometimes, it works, and other times, you lose everything. Today, I'm here to collect. The first order of business is, I promised the Dragon's Den that their members would be safe with us but Sting is dead by your man Bluenote's hand, so…" She snapped her fingers and Bluenote appeared out of thin air, looking dazzled and confused.

"What—"

"You're here to pay retribution for your careless act when you ran the Dragon's Den off the road." Erza thought her mother looked like some kind of red goddess then, commanding and handing out punishments as she saw fit, waving her ringed fingers toward Bluenote impatiently. "Go ahead, Zeref. Take your revenge so we can move past this."

Zeref stepped out completely and stood in front of Bluenote. The air around him glittered with malevolence. "Very well. I'll leave you the way Sting was left."

Erza tried to close her eyes, she did, but was frozen as shadowy blades as corporeal as any steel formed and cut Bluenote in two at the middle. His legs fell forward; his torso fell back so all she could do was peek into a gushing red mess. Bile scalded her throat. She swallowed.

Eileen was unaffected. "Good. Your other men are already either dead or loyal to me, which brings us to our last bit of business. You, Precht." She looked back at Erza. "I would do the honours myself but I know I, at least, would appreciate the chance to kill the man that tried to kill me. Go ahead, he won't fight back." She did something then and it was like Precht was paralyzed, staring wide-eyed at Eileen and jittering. Erza could feel him reach for his magic again and again but there was nothing there.

"Erza?" Eileen asked.

Erza gathered her meaning but could only stare.

Ultear was less forgiving. "If you won't do it, I will." She swayed to Erza's side and wrenched the gun out of Erza's loose fingers.

"Ultear," Precht said. "Don't."

In direct defiance, Ultear stalked forward with purpose and hit Precht hard in the gut without warning. He bent double and Ultear pushed him to his knees and wrenched his head back by his thinning grey hair. Her gun she shoved against his teeth so hard, he had no choice but to open his mouth. "You'll never make me feel this way again."

Just like before, Erza couldn't look away while Ultear pulled the trigger.

* * *

It had been a long time since Jellal was on good enough terms with Precht to frequent this place but his memory was excellent and brought him through tiled hallways lit with lights dangling from the ceiling by chains. Everything was very put together, underground, yes, but tidy. There was nothing to suggest that these tunnels had been dug for the purpose of examining bloodthirst. There was nothing to suggest that men, and, on special nights, women, had been dragged by the elbows through these very tunnels by burly men because they were too badly beaten to stand, let alone walk. Everyone that lost was thrown out in the alley behind the leather shop. Only some had people waiting to take care of them.

People died like that, and when they did, Precht had his goons take their bodies and dump them someplace they wouldn't be a bother to him. There was a lot of times when the bodies were found, those deaths were ruled muggings or assaults. It was hard to tell how much the police actually knew and how much was purchased ignorance.

The fighters that won were taken care of in another room, patched up so they could fight again at a later date.

The sound of a gunshot made Jellal tense.

Juvia said, "It came from the rings."

"Do you want me to look?" Rogue offered.

"No," Jellal said. "We stick together." He made a left down a long concrete corridor and at its terminus was a set of stairs. At the top was a viewing room he thought he'd find his father in. He'd want to stand vigil above the fight rings and see everything first-hand.

Distantly, Jellal heard more gunfire and the grounds shook with a barrage of some kind. His anxiety rose. Was that Erza's gun going off? There was no way to tell, of course, but his imagination was good. Good enough it made him antsy.

Two men appeared out of nowhere. Juvia sliced one's neck open with an attack that soaked the ground with blood and water, and Rogue's shadows grabbed the other and forced him back against the wall so hard, his head burst open.

Jellal's shoes splashed through the bloody water and the feeling of superiority was catching. He felt like he had before his mother and father arrived from Alvarez. Back when he was in charge and everyone catered to his whim. Back when people tripped over the opportunity to do business with him and no one dared to cross him. _You are your father's son_ , Jellal thought ruefully as he started on the steps that would lead him to his prize. _Full of too much hubris and pride._

He mounted the carpeted stairs without taking the mahogany handhold, wanting both hands free. He moved quietly and was glad when, at the top, he saw two more guards standing in front of a single door. They spoke in low voices and didn't notice him immediately. He lifted his gun, aimed, and fired without mercy, one bullet in the one on the left, two for the one on the right because he moved to pull his own weapon out and was shot in the shoulder instead of the chest.

With Rogue and Juvia as an entourage, Jellal topped the stairs, coming onto a small square of a landing now pooling with blood, and stepped over the bodies of the fallen. There was a door waiting to be opened. He grabbed it with a hand that was a little too sweaty for his liking and opened it slowly, barrel of his pistol going in first.

The sound of the chaos happening in the fight ring below was completely drowned out by cement walls and a thick pane of glass. Crackling fire made up the sound in the room; a fire was burning in a hearth and in front of that was a long, dark wood table where his father knelt with his elbows propped, hands clasped around dark prayer beads, head bowed. When he was young, Jellal disturbed his father's prayers and left with his hide tanned. Now he was a man and, somehow, ridiculously, no less fearful of interrupting. He waited patiently for his father to acknowledge they were there.

Finally, Acnologia lifted his head and stood, using fingers that were wrinkled with age and curled like claws. He looked old just then. "You succeeded in your mission then?"

"He's unharmed, as promised," Rogue said.

"Good. Leave us."

"Signor," Juvia began. "He's—"

"My son. I know better than you what he's capable of," Acnologia said. "Leave. Quickly now." There was _urgency_ in his voice.

Juvia backed out with Rogue's wrist clenched in her fingers. The door slapped closed after her. Jellal took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Seems I was right to be cautious of Zeref's loyalty."

"Your _madre_ has learned a few tricks in our years of marriage," Acnologia said. "I'm almost proud of her for buying your rivals loyalty with your own money."

"Yes, well, that makes one of us," Jellal muttered.

"Come." Acnologia moved from the table to a stuffed chair by the windows. Jellal followed and put himself down in the matching chair opposite. Like civilized men, Acnologia adjusted his waistcoat and then took up the decanter of scotch he had and pulled up the crystalline cap. Two glasses were poured. It wasn't Haig's Gold Label, as Laxus claimed Precht was so fond of leaving out, this was something much finer. Jellal wasn't surprised, Acnologia enjoyed the best of things and never would have settled for anything less, despite what Precht said.

"You made it sound urgent."

"It is, but I will make time for this." He handed Jellal the drink and sipped his own. "Neither of us will leave this building as the men we entered, and if it is up to the Sorceress, we won't leave at all. Especially not after you brought the Scarletta."

"She's an excellent shot, I couldn't imagine leaving her at home."

"Like you couldn't imagine sending her away."

"It was love," Jellal said glibly.

"Love makes fools out of us and dooms us."

"I can't tell if you're stalling for time or trying to bore me with wisdoms."

"Neither, I want to tell you how I've made the best out of an… interesting situation," Acnologia confessed.

"How about instead you tell me why you've lowered yourself to playing second fiddle to a man like Precht?"

Acnologia laughed. "Precht, too, is a puppet. All of us, puppets in your _Madre's_ theatre."

"Go ahead then." Jellal sat back and waved his father on. "Dazzle me with a wondrous tale."

* * *

Erza was breathing fast enough, Laxus thought she'd pass out. Ultear, too, was noisy, though he suspected that her elevated breathing was a result of elation rather than horror. She was a different breed of girl altogether, cold, once the shock of being hit by a truck had worn off and she had stopped bleeding and was given the means to extract some revenge.

"Thank you, Miss Milkovich," Eileen said. "I don't suppose you'll give us trouble about the signings?"

Ultear shook back her lopped and matted hair and rubbed her hand over her blood-dotted brow. "I'll sign but I want a portion of the profits turned. Twenty-percent."

"Ten," Eileen said.

"Eighteen," Ultear bartered back, "Or no deal. I die, Grimoire, Vesper, Sentence Six, it all gets claimed by the bank and you have to scrounge up the profits to buy it."

"You're shrewd," Eileen said with a smile. "Very well."

Erza used the wall to get to her feet. "You can't—"

"People have been telling me that my whole life, my love. I'll tell you what I tell them. I _can_. Zeref, if you would?"

Laxus tensed when Zeref crossed the room to Erza and took her by the wrist. She punched him in the face and in the gut and he took both without letting her go.

"Don't be too rough with her," Eileen warned a moment before Zeref stepped into shadow with a struggling Erza and disappeared.

"Where are they taking her?" Laxus asked foolishly. Honestly, he thought himself smart enough to just slink away but apparently not.

"Somewhere safe while this storm passes," Eileen said. "Natsu, as promised, you and Lucy are free to go. Use the back entrance, policemen are coming and I imagine they'll be here soon."

"Thanks," Natsu said and took Lucy's hand. She said something to him that Laxus missed but he caught her meaning well enough. She wasn't entirely comfortable with this. Which meant he, Laxus, certainly wasn't.

Laxus took a step, two.

"Not so fast," Eileen said and then Laxus was at the mercy of another abrupt change of scenery. It was so disorienting he fell to his knees on a floor he was familiar with—porous concrete, cold, soaked in blood and filthy with the leavings of bandages and wraps, scissors lay just feet away, opened, cotton stuck between its jaws, his tray full of cold food, the leavings of his breakfast.

Eileen weathered the magic well. She leaned against one grey wall, a splash of colour in the otherwise drab room, her red hair and a silvered sword that glittered by the lightbulb.

Laxus picked himself up from the ground, thinking if he was going to die, it wasn't going to be on his knees.

"Mister Dreyar." Eileen's voice still gave him chills. Or was it the scrape of her sword's tip over the ground? She came to stand centimetres from his toes and he still hadn't gotten up. Her matted lips moved again. "Before you start fighting for your life, I have a proposition for you."

* * *

Jellal tapped his fingers on his knees in irritation. "They've thought of everything."

"Yes. As I said, your mother was cleverer than I gave her credit for. And more heartless."

The doorway to the hallway opened and Anna entered. She'd done herself up like she was going out, a small white hat on her golden hair, cheeks rouged, a pink ascot around her throat.

" _Madre_." Jellal couldn't help but see her in a new light. The woman she used to be had died but he couldn't pinpoint _when_. That, above all else, bothered him.

" _Piccola Stella_." Fingernails painted pink moved through his hair. Jellal closed his eyes and could actually feel it. That and her lips pressing into his cheek just in front of his ear.

"Is she dead?"

"Your Constable? No. She's safe, her mother has seen to that."

Jellal waited for relief. It didn't come and he recognized why—his mother was a liar. Who was to say she wasn't lying about this, too?

Anna's next words were directed at Acnologia. "Is it as we thought?"

"Of course. He is my son," Acnologia said.

That didn't _feel_ like a compliment.

"And does he understand?"

"Yes."

"Does he like it, though? No," Jellal answered. "No, he does not. This is underhanded."

"Maybe. But I'm doing this because I love you."

"You have a strange way of showing it, _Madre_."

Her mouth twitched; her breath, hot, brushed against his cheek. "Love shows itself in a great many weird and fantastic ways."

Nothing about this felt fantastic.

"Step back _, il mio amore_. I will do it," Acnologia commanded.

Anna put one more kiss on Jellal's temple and squeezed him tight around the shoulders, and then she was gone and Jellal was looking down a pistol's barrel. It was disappointing how little Acnologia hesitated in pulling the trigger.


	22. Chapter 22

Bacchus' first words after Gray told him the particulars of Eileen's visit and what he agreed to do were, "Don't wig out on me."

"What?"

"I know you, Fullbuster. The dirty work's going to wiggle its way into that conscience of yours and try to fuck everything up for me. Don't you dare let it."

"What the hell are you talking about? Fuck up what for you?"

"Think about it," Bacchus took his eyes off the road to say. "If _we_ bring in the head lopper, there's a promotion. Goodbye, bullpen. Goodbye Jura and your freakishly shiny head and your intimidating scowl. Goodbye, shit coffee because when we get our own office, baby, we're getting our own coffee maker and we're going to brew so much black, we'll be jittering."

"Gross, don't call me baby, and just so you're aware, we'll _willingly_ be turning our back on our Chief's killer."

Bacchus nodded his head. "Yes, it is gross, I love you so how could I not call you sweet pet names, and," he put his voice to a whisper, "I don't know if you know this or not, but Chief's killer is a monster and she _will_ kill you, and now me because I'm a twit that always has to be in the know. We will be dead before morning."

Bacchus was right. Right or not, though, it still bothered Gray.

"Dirty work's not your shtick, I get it. I'll make the arrest, I'll file the paperwork, you just need to keep your mouth shut."

"No, if we're going to do this, we'll do it together."

"There's my partner. Good." Bacchus slapped him on the shoulder.

Gray asked, "But what about the next time she kills?"

"We'll watch, we'll wait, we'll get her next time."

"It's not right."

"There's only one thing in this town that is and that's Meredy's ass," Bacchus retorted.

"I don't know if I can spend the rest of my career working with you."

"And I don't think I can spend the rest of mine without you so don't do anything to get us killed."

Gray chose to look out the window.

Bacchus let him brood for some time but true to form, he couldn't let the silence go on for too long. "We do a lot of good stuff in Magnolia."

"Yeah."

"Hey, we're letting a killer walk today, but tomorrow, she could lead us to something bigger and better."

"Or she could go into hiding and never resurface again."

"A dame like Eileen Belserion? Nah. She'll need more and more and more, women like her are never satisfied. We'll play the long game and next time we get in the ring, we'll be ready for the fight, yeah?"

He had a point. Gray sighed. "Yeah."

"Good."

Bacchus pulled into the lot behind the leather shop and got out with his gun drawn. Gray mimicked him.

The door was locked, of course. Bacchus broke the glass by the doorknob, reached in and flicked over the deadbolt. The shop on the other side was empty.

Bacchus led Gray into a room in the back where, behind another closed door was a set of stairs that brought them into a basement that was much larger than the shop above, digging deep into the earth and expanding beneath the street and the neighbouring shops.

Blood was in the air and _silence_. Eerie, eerie silence. Gray took in everything numbly, wide hallways decorated with dead bodies, bullet casings he kicked, it seemed, with every other step.

The hallway curved and a room marked with _Staff Only_ appeared. Bacchus adjusted his grip on his gun, then, with a nod in Gray's direction, he opened the door and peered inside. Their criminal was where he was supposed to be, on his knees, hands together, waiting for them. There was an enchanted sword at his side, the weapon that would allow a non-mage like Laxus Dreyar to perform such heinous acts.

Emotionlessly, Gray removed his handcuffs and cinched them on waiting wrists. Though he prepared for resistance, he got none.

"I'll call it in," Bacchus said. "Get some paramedics down here, too, looks like he was shot up."

While he got on his radio, Gray wandered out of the room and down the hallway. It wasn't protocol but he was pretty sure that after his meeting with Eileen, he wasn't going to meet resistance.

The smell of blood made him go left and he found his way into the arena. It was a mess. The ring was ruined, the ceiling, the walls. It was a wonder it was standing at all.

He swept over the dead. A woman and a boy were trampled, four men that had been holding guns were shot in the chest or head, and Precht Gaebolg was lying on the ground in the centre of the room without a face. He hadn't just been shot, he'd been mutilated, and the culprit was kneeling at his side wet to her elbows in blood. The sound of her gun clicking empty gave Gray chills. How long had she been sitting there for trying to shoot without bullets?

She didn't seem to notice him until he crouched and took the gun from her hand. She didn't say anything after, either, just looked at him challengingly, as if daring him to ask if she'd done that. He touched the side of her head where the skin was burned and raw and red. Ultear barely flinched.

"We have an ambulance coming. Can you stand?"

She got herself up and walked out on her own, too.

* * *

 _"I guess you're pretty proud, huh? A new badge, new title. This here says you've wanted to be Detective for a long time."_

 _"Yes, Ma'am."_

 _"The youngest detective on the MPD, my partner."_

 _"Are you older, Mister Groh? You're so fun I just assumed…"_

 _"A few years. That just means I got more experience, though, in all things work and fun related."_ He winked.

The newscaster's laughter was just as fake as the TV set. The blush, though, that was all real. _"Back to our interview questions. How did you know to check inside the building, Detective Fullbuster?"_

" _That's kind of a strange story. It was an anonymous tip."_

 _"Anonymous?"_

 _"Well. Sort of._ _I don't remember much. I was in the hospital after I was kidnapped by the Den and run off the road and I was getting healed by someone and they just whispered in my ear,_ 'you'll find the killer at Precht's fight rings on Vesper _.' And so when I woke up, that's where I went."_

The newscaster sat forward in her folding chair and bent her body toward the two detectives. _"That was a lucky break."_

 _"Someone's looking out for me."_

 _"I'll say. What happened then?"_

Bacchus filled in when Gray trailed off. _"We arrested the killer first, as you know. We did a sweep of the building and found our Records girl—Precht Gaebolg's daughter—Miss Milkovich. She'd been seriously harmed after she, too, was taken by the Den and then run off the road by one of Precht's boys, but she was alive."_

 _"Not to take the light away from the victim,"_ the newscaster said, _"but how did the daughter of infamous criminal Precht Gaebolg get a job at the precinct?"_

 _"He was infamous before, Ma'am, but his criminal activities were kept secret from the police,"_ Bacchus said.

 _"And,"_ Gray added, _"Ultear renounced her father's way of life. She refused to stand by him when his empire was crumbling and that's why he put her in the fight ring with the killer."_

 _"Of course. What a horrible thing. That must have been a terrible ordeal. I couldn't imagine being taken hostage like that."_

Bacchus said _, "She was scared, but Ultear's a tough nut."_

 _"A very brave girl. What came after that?"_

 _"Our units arrived. The ambulance took care of Miss Milkovich and we went upstairs to the viewing room above the fights. That's where we found the bodies of—"_

The TV channel was changed before Erza could find out what happened next. Micky Mouse filled the screen. Zeref came to the couch, beer in hand, and threw himself down on the faded and pilled cushion.

"I was watching that," Erza snapped.

"It's trash."

"It's _news_."

He turned cold, dark eyes on her. "I told you what happened at Vesper, why do you need a skirt to repeat it?"

"Because I think you're a fucking liar." She stood, intent on storming out. The metallic click of a hammer dropping stopped her.

"I told you time and time again, Mizz Scarlet. _Sit_ down and wait."

Erza whirled on him, deciding that she wasn't afraid of the gun. If he was going to shoot her, he would have done so already. "I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of you terrorizing me. I'm tired of this shitty motel room and I'm tired of _you_." She grabbed the gun for emphasis and yanked it out of his hand. Like she suspected, he was quick to take his finger away from the trigger. She turned the weapon around on him and shoved it into his cheek hard enough to leave an indent. "Give me your car keys."

"No."

She snorted in frustration and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him upright off the couch. Zeref was pliable enough, even spreading his arms to her and smiling mockingly. She started patting him down, checking his pants pockets front and back, and then his shirt pocket, too. "Tell me _where they are_!"

"No."

She balled her hand in his shirt with the intent of shaking the life out of him but stopped when she heard a key slide in the door. Zeref cocked his head and he and Erza together watched the deadbolt flick over. A whine of hinges brought the door open. A man waited on the other side, mostly silhouetted by the light; Erza recognized Natsu by his leather jacket. He stepped into the room and she could see him more clearly. He'd re-dyed his hair and slicked it all back. He still had that lip ring; it shone when he smiled.

"This doesn't look cooperative, Zeref."

"Did I say she was being cooperative?" Zeref drawled.

Another figure filled the doorway. "Not my daughter."

Erza unwittingly lowered her gun and released Zeref. "Momma?" That word felt like poison when it was out; she couldn't take it back, though.

Eileen pushed Natsu aside and came into the motel room. She didn't look like she belonged, too ritzy in her navy blue skirt suit for a place where there were cobwebs in the corners and dust bunnies under the bed. "Thank you for taking care of her, Zeref." She reached into a matching blue clutch and took out the largest wad of money Erza had ever seen. "This should take care of some of your troubles, anyway."

"Thank you." Zeref took it from her and stuffed it in his pocket; bills popped out of the top. "Just have to get that broad of yours to cash in on her inheritance, Natsu, and we'll have it made in the shade."

Natsu didn't have a response for his brother beyond, "The car's running."

"It's been a pleasure, Mizz Scarlet."

Erza waited until she watched Zeref and Natsu get into a hulking black truck and tear out of the parking lot to address her mother. "What the _hell_? It's been an entire _day_. Where were you? Why did you pay them to keep me here? And _where did that money come from_?"

"I needed to keep you out of trouble," Eileen said. "And I needed to tie up some loose ends before I could come for you. I'm sorry, Erza." She held out her hand. Erza stayed out of reach.

"The news is saying awful things."

"Magnolia is an awful place. It's getting better now, though. Come." There was no dodging for Erza this time, Eileen taking her by the hand pulling her out of the room and into the parking lot where the Skylark waited. Eileen put Erza into the passenger's seat and took the driver's.

Erza thought maybe she was too disgusted to speak. Then, as the car started rolling, she exploded. " _Why_ would you do this?"

"You really want to know the truth?"

To figure out _why_ her mother was chopping people's heads off? " _Yes."_

"Very well. I've always been a mage for hire and to those that could pay, I've been something more."

"A killer."

"If you must call it that, yes."

"There's nothing else _to_ call it."

"So be it. After Anna decided to burn down her house and destroy her husband's business under the guise of a long-time enemy named Serena, she contacted me. She told me she had nothing. No home, no money, she didn't even have her own name. She didn't want her husband's, he always put his work before her and wouldn't give it up for anything, not even the threat of her leaving, to be _Fernandez_ seemed even worse, given all of Jellal's enemies, and she didn't _want_ Heartfilia any longer. Jude ruined that for her. She paid me the little bit of money she'd been able to save up and asked me for my help in building her into something in Magnolia. She didn't want to be at anyone's mercy anymore."

"At the cost of her son and her husband."

"She would have them run off but those men would only ever come back and drag her down and tell her all the things she couldn't be," Eileen said coldly.

There was a stranger in the driver's seat, not her mother. Erza couldn't look anymore and leaned her head against the window. "You'll be arrested."

"That's unlikely. The police have their killer in custody and the law is complacent without you there."

Erza felt tears prick her eyes. "Don't compliment me."

The car bounced into their driveway. Eileen put it in park and turned to face Erza completely. "This isn't how I would have chosen things to happen but it is what it is. I did what I had to for us to do _well_ in this life, Erza. It hasn't been easy. Things will be different now, though. With my help, Anna has agreed that we will split things sixty-forty in my favour. She's the face everyone will see, I'm the strength no one will question."

Erza didn't try to hide swiping away her tears; there wasn't any point, they just kept on coming. "You're rotten."

"I am as I need to be so you can be who you want to be."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"There will be a new police chief chosen and I will ensure that he is a man sympathetic to women's rights and equality."

Erza opened her door and practically fell out of the car. She beat her mother to the front door and was part-way up the stairs before Eileen entered. Erza closed her bedroom door with force. Her mother didn't chase after her.

It felt like she hadn't been home in _forever,_ but her room was the exact same as when she'd left. There was a small 10-inch TV on her dresser that she used to watch as she was getting ready for work. She turned it on and tuned it to the news. She needn't be concerned that she missed anything, while Gray and Bacchus were gone, there was a brief story about a bank manager, Mister Salvatore, that had been shot in the head and robbed, but then Vesper returned to the screen. Magnolia's citizens only wanted to hear about one thing and the newscaster obliged.

* * *

A news crew waited outside of the Constabulary. Some photographer's camera flashed brightly. Reporters tried to get a statement. Elfman and Freed played crowd control and made a pathway for Gray and Bacchus.

Clapping overwhelmed them as soon as they stepped foot in the constabulary. It echoed off the walls and dug a deep, dark hole in Gray's chest. Bacchus didn't take issue, an attention-seeker through and through. He wrapped his arm around Gray's shoulder and grinned widely— _proudly_ —at those that came to pat them on the back.

Gray let Bacchus take all of the praise. To do anything else was to scream that it was all a lie.

Eventually, Commissioner Hyberion appeared and announced that Jura Neekis would be in-term chief until they could have a proper posting. Gray didn't envy him the job, it seemed cursed.

Jura was all business, relaying, "The first order of business is, I want a thorough report on my desk by the time we get a signed confession. This guy gets no loopholes."

"Yes, Sir," Gray intoned.

Jura left.

Bacchus squeezed Gray's shoulder. "Look alive, Fullbuster. Remember? We're fucking _heroes_. We're getting an office this week, eh?"

Sure they were. It was little better than the Record's Room, being that it was under the stairs to the attic. Gray suspected the whole thing was to appease the public, actually, not because the commissioner thought they needed to be rewarded, but Levy was already cleaning out the space. It did have a door, though, and soon, it would say _Detectives Fullbuster and Groh_ , _Major Crimes._

Bacchus pushed away from Gray and went to his desk with his usual devil-may-care swagger. His neighbour leaned in and started chatting Bacchus' ear off. Gray didn't feel like sitting or talking. At least, to anyone in the bullpen.

The Records Room door was closed and when he opened it, Ultear was standing behind her desk, a pair of black cat eye reading glasses resting on her nose and a file held up for inspection. The scar on her head had been lessened after a suspicious girl with head of dark hair had snuck her way into the hospital to see her. Ultear hid what was left by styling her hair just so. She'd cut the locks short around her chin to make it all even, curled it, and parted it to the side now.

She looked over the tan folder without a smile. "Detective."

Gray closed the door. "Don't call me that, Ultear."

She set the folder down. "Why not?"

Gray determined that they were alone before divulging the thing that had kept him up at night. "I don't _deserve_ the title. The _real_ assassin is still out there. I saw her this morning _at the market_ for god's sake. Buying _parsnips."_ By the time he finished talking, he was at her desk and Ultear was looking very, very concerned.

"I thought we talked about this?"

"We talked about _nothing._ You told me I _shouldn't ask questions_ and left it at that."

She twitched around the side of the desk; her fingers felt familiar curling on his bicep, her skin when she got close, warm. "Don't you like your new title? The respect it gives you when you're walking down the street?" Of course, he did, and Ultear knew it, a bloodhound catching the scent of pride. "You have a new cruiser, don't you? One that doesn't smell like ten drunks died in the back, and an office. You share it with Bacchus, of course, but it's not all bad. He's still habitually late, isn't he?"

"So what?"

"There are perks to closed doors and late partners." She kissed his chin and followed it up with a flick of her tongue.

Gray said plainly, "So I get the car, the office and the girl, the only thing I have to do is frame a man for murders he didn't _commit_ and not bother to tell my superiors that there's a mole in our department."

"Jellal's gone. I don't have anyone to spy for."

"Really? Because I lied about the parsnips. I saw her car out front of your apartment. You're still dealing with her."

Ultear readily said, "I signed over Grimoire to her and Anna, that's why she was there."

"That's all?"

"Swear it."

"She didn't ask you to spy for her?"

"No."

"Did you offer?"

"No."

She was being so honest, Gray thought it was okay to push his luck. "Will you tell me if she does?"

She hesitated. "It's dangerous to play both sides."

"You do it so well."

"I do," she said.

"Having you on my side in this would be a big help."

She loved flattery. "I'll consider it."

"Ultear—"

She rose up on tiptoe and pressed her lipsticked mouth against his. "I said I'll consider it. I'll see you tonight, baby."

Gray knew a dismissal when he heard one.

* * *

For the first while, Laxus entertained himself by reading the names scrawled on the wall. Some had been etched into the paint by some sharp object he was sure none of the prisoners was supposed to have, others were written in something equally smuggled—permeant marker. There used to be more, but after Zeref was arrested and then Angel busted him out of jail, taking with her half the block with those ugly monstrosities she called _angels_ , most of the walls were new. Only a few months' worth of names was there to entertain Laxus. It wasn't nearly enough.

Despite the pain in his torn up leg, Laxus had to stand and remained that way until his legs ached and his feet hurt and he could remain that way no longer. He did a circuit of the room, then dropped back onto the cot anchored into the wall. It was hard as a rock, a piece of foam covered in plastic that was supposed to be sanitary but really was cracked to the point of uselessness. It was sharp, too.

His attention faltered for just a second and static jumped from his fingers to the metal. Elfman, his guard for the next few hours, looked his way. Laxus folded his arms over his chest and met Elfman's eye steadily, pretending like nothing was wrong.

It worked for a few minutes, then Laxus felt a buildup of energy again and needed to _do_ something. "Hey."

Strauss remained facing forward.

"Helloooo?"

Still nothing.

"Piggy-pig. Hello? Hello? I have an important question."

Elfman shifted from foot to foot but aside from that, he was steadfast in ignoring Laxus. Laxus tried another route, engaging Elfman's partner. "Hey, Boss." The partner's eyes shifted Laxus' way and Laxus grinned. "How much longer am I going to be in here?"

Elfman spoke over his partner's response. "As long as it takes."

"He speaks." Laxus received a filthy glare. That only made it more fun. "Listen, if I have to stay here much longer I'm going to have to ask for a new cell. This bed's bullshit. Am I going to have a better one after?"

"For the final time, Dreyar, shut up."

"Final time? This is the first I've talked to you."

"You're annoying."

"Is this about your sister?"

Elfman turned on him. Laxus thought he was going to get crushed but the outside door opened and another man joined them, tall and bald and stone-faced, and Elfman stood at attention.

Laxus flexed his fingers and more static leak out. He breathed. And breathed. And came back with, "It's about time, new Chief Neekis. I've been waiting for hours."

"In-term Chief Neekis, and believe it or _not,_ you're not my first priority."

"Now that I fucking doubt," Laxus told him impatiently. "Everyone out there is _dying_ to know who's been cutting through Magnolia's gangs and your superiors are breathing down your neck, I'm sure, after the blunder with Briggs."

Jura only said, "Bring him, Elfman."

The door opened and Elfman tried to take his arm.

"I got it," Laxus said sharply and walked quickly out of range, following Neekis to a small, drab room with one overhead light. "Is it a requirement of all police stations to have a shitty broom closet for confessions?"

"It intimidates the prisoners." Jura sat down at an equally small square table in front of a small stack of crisp white papers. On them was dark words that had been typed hours and hours before, Laxus was sure.

"What's it all mean?"

"This one says you used that enchanted sword Detective Groh bagged to cut people's heads off." Jura picked up a piece of paper and shoved it his way. "This one here says you hired the Dragon's Den to destroy Mister Fernandez's place on Bristol. This one," he tapped a nubby finger on a miniature stack. "Says yours was the bullet that scrambled Acnologia and Jellal Fernandez's brains. And this one here says you're a cop killer."

"Do I get a pen or am I expected to sign it in my blood?"

Jura took a pen out of his breast pocket and threw it at Laxus. Laxus almost missed catching it. "What happens after I sign my name?"

"Should get a bullet," Elfman muttered.

"You get transferred up north," Jura said over him.

"Hm. Doesn't sound quite like the vacation spot I was promised."

"Killers don't get special treatment."

"If that were true, everyone would be a stand-up guy. But look at you, a killer with a badge, a hero when I ask any of those dorks on the street, and me, the bad guy getting the respect that's due. Sounds pretty special to me."

"Just put your name down, Dreyar. Don't play games."

Under the calm exterior, Jura was ruffled. Laxus flashed him a savage grin. "Sure, Boss."

When he was through, Elfman escorted him back to his cell and locked him up. He returned to his post then. Laxus asked, "Say, how is that sister of yours?"

Elfman had taken up staring at the wall again.

"Loves her family, huh? Mira is a nice girl. A little kooky, yeah, but she's good, you know? Good in a pinch." Elfman glared at him and Laxus corrected. "I don't mean like that. She's a ten, for sure. What I'm saying is that she's genuine, ya? Comes through for you. The kind of girl you find patience for."

Elfman growled, "Chief only wanted you in good condition to sign your confession. Shut the _fuck_ up, Dreyar, if you know what's good for you."

Laxus dropped to his cot and put his head back on the wall. "You know she's going to want to see me when I get out, right? I think she really likes me."

"Mira likes a lot of things she shouldn't," Elfman said. "I can't control that. What I can do, though, is tell her that there's no coming back from where you're going."

The door opened and a fresh officer came in.

"Is it shift change so soon?" Laxus asked. "I'm going to miss you, Strauss."

It wasn't as good as Mira's but Elfman was perfecting his glare. Laxus let him go without another word, his strategy wasn't working anymore, anyway, he couldn't distract himself from feeling all of the errant magic Eileen had given to him with the sentiment of, ' _I'm not sure if it'll kill you. If you die, though, you die,'_ just like he couldn't hold it in any longer. He put his hand against the wall and breathed out and as he breathed out, he imagined opening a dam. Electricity flowed from his palm into the wall. Wooden beams splintered and exploded, concrete turned to dust all around him, destroying the small jail cell in the blink of an eye.

Any man that had the misfortune of touching the wall or even being near it knew what was sure a messy, painful death.

When the last of the magic left Laxus' body, he felt sick and dull—hollowed out and _wrong_ after holding on to it for _so long_. He longed to lay there motionless but it was time to move. Already, he could hear the shouts of men and women from inside the Constabulary. He crawled from the rubble because to walk was too much effort. Sunlight, blindingly bright, shone down on Ultear's car, parked where it was supposed to be, beneath the nearest lamppost.

A bullet pinged off the metal doorframe just as Laxus grabbed the handle. Another one, too. There was no time to flinch, there wasn't even time to wonder if Ultear did what Eileen promised she was going to. Hell, there wasn't time for _relief_ when Laxus got the door open and hauled himself into the driver's seat and found the keys in the visor. More bullets pinged off the metal, one smashed through the driver's window and missed him by centimeters. Laxus brought the car to life and jammed his foot down on the gas pedal.

He had a solid thirty second lead to shake the cops and made good use of it, blowing through all the red lights, hitting a cart pushed by an old man trying to cross the street, slamming the car sideways into a delivery truck and then accelerating through an underground parking lot to come out on the opposite side of the building. The sound of sirens was distant enough that he felt it safe to stop at a low-income building and hotwire a dark blue Crosley station wagon in the parking lot out back. A nice economy car that wouldn't catch too much attention, hopefully. The beige patch-work flat cap he found in the passenger's seat helped. He pulled it over his hair and down to the side to obscure his scar. The checkered jacket on the floor, too, aided in his disguise. It smelled like cows; beggars couldn't be choosers.

When Laxus pulled out to a stop sign, four cruisers whizzed by. He gripped the steering wheel and held his breath. None of them circled back around so he pulled out onto the road and headed back in the direction of the Constabulary. The parking lot was full of fire trucks now and ambulances, men and women were gathered around, getting pushed back by a threadbare police line. Laxus picked Ultear's cap of midnight coloured hair out of the crowd. Like she felt his gaze, she lifted her head and met his eye. A minute nod passed between them, then Laxus pressed the accelerator to the floor and got out of there while the getting was good.

* * *

At some point, Erza had stopped standing in front of her TV and had laid down right there on the floor. It was cold at first, the hardwood pressing into her bare arms, and then she stopped feeling it. The TV droned on and on. The newscaster stopped talking about the fires and the rumored gang wars and started talking about an escape from the Magnolia Constabulary jail. She saw a picture of Laxus' face fill the screen and disappear again. Downstairs, she heard the front door open and close and the Skylark roar. Erza could only imagine what her mother was out doing. Going to kill Laxus to make sure that loose end got cauterized?

On the TV, a red-eyed Anna Heartfilia sobbed into the microphone about her son and husband's murderer and acting Chief Neekis, very publicly, promised he would be captured. Erza was suddenly so furious that she couldn't lay there any longer. She couldn't _stay_ there any longer. _So what will you do?_ Not go to the police, they were all in on it, too, if Gray's interview meant _anything_.

She didn't have a plan when she packed a modest bag, took all of her savings and got out of there in her best pair of walking shoes, pink flatties with a bow; her feet seemed to know, though, bringing her across town without faltering.

It was nighttime again and the streets were quieter than usual, there were no thugs rousing themselves any cash from unsuspecting pedestrians, there were no ladies in the entertainment district leaning against light poles while they tried to catch the eye of any willing to pay. There wasn't even anyone standing out front of Rose's, smoking a weed and laughing. Erza peeped into the bar on the way by and saw no one she recognized. Where was Mira? This had been her favourite place to be, hadn't it?

 _Everything is different_. The thought made her feel _heavy_.

She continued past Rose's without going inside.

Magnolia's train station was a modern-looking building, stone and brick. There were lights on inside. A single man, old, chubby, bearded and wearing glasses, sat behind the counter, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He flipped sluggishly through a _Magnolia Times_ paper. Erza fixated on the cover. Jellal's face, to be more exact. She read the title. _Millionaire Jellal Fernandez, and Father, Found Dead._ She read it three more times, too, because it was _still_ an impossible pill to swallow.

"Ma'am? Can I help you?"

The way the clerk asked made it seem like he'd been on her for some time. Erza cleared her throat and said, "There's a train ticket waiting for me. To Clover."

"Reference number?"

"Yes. Um…" She went into her purse and took out the piece of paper Jellal had scribed on. The clerk read it, then spun in his chair and looked through a stack of papers behind him. He came out with a long, rectangular ticket.

"The last train of the day leaves in ten."

"Thank you."

She exited and waited outside in the cool air. When the train rolled up, it washed her in thick white smoke. She climbed the stairs just as soon as she was able and left Magnolia behind without regret.


	23. Chapter 23

Erza's train arrived in Clover at four in the morning. It was too early to get a room and none of the shops would be open for another hour, not even the train station, which was unfortunate because she was _starving_. The last thing she ate was a bowl of cereal in the room Zeref kept her.

She looked left and right along the platform. There were a few other people that had boarded the train with her. Businessmen, mostly, working between Magnolia and Clover. Most looked at her twice and that was it; no one tried to approach her or tell her how a dame shouldn't be wandering around alone while the sun was still set.

She chose a direction at random and walked. Clover was smaller than Magnolia but not by much. Most of its industry was car factories or steel smelts where workers made railway lines. Huge plumes of grey smoke stained the lightening horizon and made the air seem thick in her lungs.

A man on a street corner called to her and tried to sell himself. She passed him by. A baker was opening up the windows of his shop but when Erza stuck her head in, he told her that nothing would be ready for another hour. She trekked on, tired and cranky now.

Twenty minutes had passed before Erza realized she was being followed. She slowed her gate and pretended to be awed by the tall buildings and then she purposefully turned her foot on the side and acted like she'd sprained her ankle. She hobbled to the cement wall of a garden and lowered herself to the ledge. She massaged her foot and hissed and looked all around. Her follower wasn't anywhere in sight.

"There's a problem with your lie. It's too early to be a lazy tourist," said a voice that chilled Erza to the bone. She dropped her foot and took out her gun and pointed it behind her.

Jellal lifted hands sheathed in leather gloves. "Don't shoot. I'm out of tricks."

"Jellal?"

"In the flesh."

She didn't lower her gun. He came around the garden and gripped its nose and slowly pointed it away. Once that was done, he pried it from her hands.

"The news said—"

"We shouldn't talk out here," he said. "Will you come with me?"

She didn't know if she could say no if she wanted to. He took her hand and helped her to her feet and brought her to a shiny red car.

* * *

 _Quaint_ and _Jellal_ never went together in Erza's mind. He was boisterous and showy and insufferable. This cottage, though, this _villa_ ( _there_ was his pompousness showing through) was small and charming and reachable only by a narrow dirt road.

Beyond the cottage roof's steep edge, the sun peeped over the horizon, a large red and swollen eye spying their every movement. A breeze plucked at the ends of Erza's hair. She let it out of the braid she'd obsessively weaved again and again on her train ride to smother some of the uncertainty she'd been feeling since she'd boarded. It didn't work completely. This was the most life-altering thing she'd ever done. She didn't report her mother to the police. She _walked_ out of her home with nothing but a small duffle bag, a coat, and a pair of flatties with the intention of going _anywhere,_ and then she was suddenly finding a man that she thought was _dead_. And now the only thing she was certain of was how uncertain everything was. She had no job, no family she could trust, no plan. She was just...

Her fingers sought the ends of her hair again. The braid was done up in a second, so tight that it _hurt_. That was good. Pain was good. It helped her think clearly.

Steps ahead, Jellal took a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the front door—it was painted red. Erza wasn't surprised, it seemed he needed to surround himself with the colour.

Inside, the cottage was much the same. The walls were cream-coloured drywall and on each was a painting, red in nature. Erza recognized Meredy's brushstrokes now, she'd seen them enough times. Like always, most of her paintings were abstract. Erza thought maybe if she tried hard, she could see the sunrise in one of them. The others? Maybe flowers, maybe blood, maybe trees in autumn bloom.

The cottage was open-concept, the living room and kitchen and dining room all one. The only places that were private were the bedroom at the very back of the cottage, its door cracked open to reveal a modest double bed made with a quilt, and the bathroom, just off the kitchen. From what Erza could see inside the small room, the faucets and bathtub were wrought iron, the light fixtures, too. It was a theme that extended out into the main room, the kitchen stove a large, propane monstrosity with wrought iron elements and an oven door large enough that if Erza really, really tried, she could probably climb inside.

Jellal held out his hands and spun a circle. "What do you think?"

"That you haven't been here for a long time," Erza quipped.

"I didn't have much time to clean, I didn't want to miss you coming off the train."

"How did you know that I'd get my ticket and come here?"

"Where else would you go?"

"Literally anywhere."

"Yes, I suppose, but this was the only direction you expressed an interest in coming," Jellal told her. He lifted the edge of a sheet off a green couch that was obviously old, judging by the style, but showing very little signs of ware. "I used to spend a lot of summers here when I was a boy."

He went to one of the windows next and opened the dusty curtain. Beyond was a small lake blue, blue, blue. It glimmered in dawn's first light, a touch of red on the flat water. Erza examined the sandy shores. She and Jellal had no one to share this place with, this cottage was the only one on the lake. She took in the thick grove of cedars that surrounded them on all sides, and then the huge, hulking hills made of granite behind them. She imagined the rock as sentinels, keeping the peace. This place was untouched. Pristine.

Jellal went to the bedroom and came back out with a duffle bag. Erza watched him crouch beside the couch and use a knife in his pocket to lift the floorboards. There was a large space beneath. Erza saw the cold black of fired metal and knew there were rifles down there. _Dozens._ The cottage was sitting on a store of them.

Jellal pulled his duffle bag close and unzipped it. The sound was startling, bouncing off the walls. Transfixed, Erza watched the green appear. Thousands of dollars inside that leather. Jellal took it all like he was taking nothing more valuable than a bucket of water and overturned it in the hollow beneath the cottage. Bills fluttered down and slipped out of sight.

Seeing the guns and the money jarred her in a way that allowed her thoughts to flow. "Where did all that come from?"

"My savings."

Erza remembered sitting on Jellal's bed while he paced with the phone in his hand, speaking to the bank. Had that only been days ago? She joked, she didn't know what else to do. "You walked into your bank and took out your savings after you were pronounced dead? That must have been a shock for the teller."

His smile was the same smile it always was, death and casual clothes hadn't given him any humility. "Is that what you think happened?"

It took her a few seconds to realize he wasn't kidding. She admitted then, "I don't know _what_ happened."

"You've been very calm about it."

She dropped her eyes to where she'd linked her fingers together. "I've been…"

Jellal didn't pry the answer out of her. He pushed the board back down and stood, then took Erza's gun from his jacket pocket and put it on the narrow grey ash coffee table. Erza wanted to have it back, mostly because she didn't know if she liked Jellal being armed when she wasn't. He stepped away from the weapon and she felt a little more at ease. More so, watching him go into the kitchen and turn on the water. The lines hiccupped and exploded air out of the pipes, the cottage hadn't been used for so long. It smoothed out and Jellal pulled a kettle out of one of the many shoulder height cupboards and filled it. He turned on the stove and then, finally, addressed her again.

"Are you going to just stand there?" By the front door still, fingers _still_ tangled, shoes _still_ on like she was lost.

Erza breathed out and undid her coat, dropping it on the couch alongside Jellal's. Jellal held out his hand; she was reticent to go to him because she _still_ didn't believe he was real and was afraid to have the illusion shattered. She couldn't just _stand_ there, though, could she?

Despite her insecurities, he was tangible, hands warm, callouses scraping her skin just gently as they slid up her bare arms to her shoulders and back down again to land on her hips. A kiss was left on the edge of Erza's jaw. It turned into something open-mouthed and sweet with an edge of need. She shivered despite herself and wrapped her arms around Jellal's waist. He was slow and steady, grabbing her by the thighs and lifting her up, putting her behind on the counter and then returning to her neck like he didn't care she tasted like sweat and iron.

Erza felt him pressing against her leg and knew for certain that this wasn't the dream she'd been thinking it was. She gripped his shoulders and pulled him back an inch to see his face. "How are you here? The police said—the _news_ —and your mother—"

Jellal's face pinched and his fingers cinched. " _Madre._ "

"She was crying."

"I'm sure she was. She's learned to be quite the actress."

"I _saw_ people bring out the bodies from Vesper. Yours was there."

Jellal held up his index finger and squinted. "No."

"What do you _mean_ no? You—"

He sighed. "Watch."

His eyes closed and magic filled the air. His image shimmered and split and suddenly there were two of him. Both Jellal's opened their eyes and two of his mouths told her, "I can be in two different places at once. And I can make this Jellal appear as I want him to. Dead or alive. It was a trick I learned from my father when I was young, a Fernandez secret, you could call it. Aside from my mother, you're the only person that knows about it so…" He pressed his index finger against his lip in a _shushing_ motion.

She didn't know whether to feel angry that he'd tricked her or glad that he had and that he was alive.

"I suspected that Zeref was going to try something underhanded so before we left, I made the illusion and that's who went into Vesper with you. While that was happening, I—the real me, that is—went to the bank and retrieved my money."

The bank manager that had been robbed and killed floated through Erza's mind. Laugh, cry, leave him there, the murderer? Erza didn't know. Jellal sensed her turmoil and put a kiss on her chin, further clouding her judgement.

She clenched her jaw and said firmly, "You used your magic to send a _ghost_ into Vesper Avenue with me while the real you went across town where you robbed and murdered the manager of the Magnolia Bank."

"Did I say I killed him?"

"The _news_ said—"

"That could have been anyone."

She stared at him and he stared back. Stubborn. "One day, the law will catch up with you, Jellal."

"We all get what we deserve, don't we?"

"Doesn't that make you a little bit scared?"

"No, it makes me wish that when the time comes, it's you that comes at me with a badge and cuffs." He smiled and winked.

She furrowed her brow. "Do you think because you're an alright lover that I won't?"

"If I was only an _alright_ lover, my love, I doubt very much that you'd be sitting on my counter at the edge of the world."

"You're a _passable_ lover that is not only a killer but also roped me into his schemes and then sent me into Vesper on my own without any real backup," Erza reaffirmed aloud so she could keep in the forefront of her mind what kind of man he was.

"This me can do everything the real me can," he said defensively. "And then some, actually. The real me can't die, can he?"

"You're despicable."

"I've missed your sharp tongue," he said with a healthy amount of passion and reabsorbed his projection. When he next spoke, he was much soberer. "When your mother finds out I'm alive, she's going to be unhappy, I'd wager. She wanted me very, very dead."

"I'm not speaking to my mother."

"Then I suppose my secret's safe with you."

"Are you worried your family will come here looking for you?"

He shook his head. "We're also no longer on speaking terms. I have to give my mother some credit, though. She took everything I had, business partners, allies that I thought were unshakable, all my money. _Padre_ told me she hired your mother with the intent of first scaring off the competition before she came to Magnolia, which is why all of those attacks happened to all of the other families, and when I stood my ground, she turned her sights on those closest to me and sang songs in my ear like, ' _this isn't the life I wanted for my Piccola Stella._ '" He was all scorn.

"She wasn't wrong in thinking that. It's a hard life."

"Rewarding," Jellal said.

"You could have done better."

"But this is the family business, it's what I do best."

"Did," Erza corrected.

He let out his breath. "Yes. _Did_."

The way he said it made Erza think that Jellal would not stay on the backburner, grow old and die quietly in this little cottage. He wanted to rule. He'd want his kingdom back. He would strike back, eventually. "It would be brazen of you to walk back into Magnolia again when there's a price on your head."

"No one looks for a dead man," he quipped.

"You're going to get yourself killed for real. Or arrested."

"Will you be sad for me?"

"No," she lied.

Jellal smiled and kissed her; it deepened and soon, she was tasting his tongue and feeling him gather her up once again. The kettle on the stove was forgotten for the time being. "However conflicted you are, I'm glad you chose to come."

Erza cast her eyes toward the ceiling while Jellal kissed her throat. "Where does this end?"

"As the femme fatal, you should know it's nowhere good."

That shouldn't have given her a thrill but it _did._ She shouldn't like the way he grabbed at her but she _did._ She shouldn't be pliable when he pulled her off the counter and made her wrap her legs around his middle but she _was._

Jellal flicked off the kettle on the way to the bedroom and dropped Erza on the bed without much care about the dust that puffed up. Erza wasn't thinking about it. She didn't want to think about _anything._ She didn't wait for Jellal to undress her, she wiggled out of her sweaty and stained shirt, pulling the sleeves off her arms. Jellal helped from there, taking off the belt that hugged her waist and then pulling the dark pants down over her hips.

Before doing anything else, he leaned over her and lifted her head up gently so he could fan her hair out on the white sheets. Then he stood straight again and took her all in from head to toe. Erza remained that way, legs together and slightly bent, lying to the side, arms up over her head, though she felt exposed. She couldn't exactly say what it was he was thinking about at that moment but she knew no one had ever looked at her _that_ way before. It scared her and she liked it.

Jellal eventually moved. He got rid of his shirt and his jeans and climbed onto the bed. Lips brushed against Erza's. "Stay just like that."

"Okay."

Kisses were left on her collarbone and her breasts, her stomach and the top of her hip, the bottom, the place between her legs. Erza wanted to spread for him but when she tried, Jellal kept her where she was with his hand on her knee. The only way he allowed her to move was by taking the leg on top and pushing it up just a bit, spreading her that way. His teasing brought her to a place where she was oversensitive but he never let her get beyond that point. It was cruel. It was exactly the distraction she needed.

The sun had climbed a few inches in the sky when Erza decided she could take it no longer. She pushed him back and got to her knees where she kissed him with force and when it seemed he really, really liked it, when his hands were grabbing at her hips and her behind and her waist and her breasts, and he was going to bully her onto her back again, Erza pushed his hands aside and kissed him other places.

His neck tasted like cologne and was prickly, he needed to shave, his shoulder tasted like salt, his chest, too. He sighed for her and leaned back, palms planted on the bed. Erza got between his bent legs and teased him the way he'd teased her—meanly. She learned every edge of his abdominal muscles, every curve to the very sensitive places on his body, and the way they all tasted on the tip of her tongue. When she finally did decide to take him into her mouth, he looked uncomfortably hard.

Jellal took a handful of Erza's hair but let her work at her own pace. Slowly. She took enjoyment out of hearing the small sounds he made, the rushing of air when he breathed out when she found a spot he particularly liked, the relieved sigh when she'd put a little more pressure around him with her lips and her tongue.

It seemed he would die of mindlessness before Erza gave up her pursuit. She laid back then without his asking and Jellal fit inside her. He fanned her hair out again and then hooked one of Erza's legs over his arm and matched Erza's earlier pace.

Jellal spilled on her belly when he was through and put himself down on the bed next to her. The sun was much higher now. If Erza had to hazard a guess, she'd say it was mid-morning. Jellal fumbled beside the bed and got his pants. There was a package of cigarettes he worked out of the pocket. A lighter _schwicked_ and smoke filled the air, white-grey, looping toward the ceiling.

"We can stay like this. Here, I mean." Jellal made large Os with the smoke he expelled.

"Not forever." Erza kept her eyes on the ceiling.

"For a while. I have connections in the west still, I think I'll start rebuilding there," Jellal said. "I'll be nice and close here in this cottage. As for you… I can give you the address to the Alvarez Constabulary. You can go in and stun them with your skills. You'll be the first female Constable _twice._ How lucky is that?"

She faced him. " _If_ I'm hired, I'll be Constable Scarlet living with Alvarez's rising star criminal mastermind?" Erza asked sarcastically.

" _When_ you're hired," he said with confidence. Another line of smoky O's joined the first. "And why not?"

She actually didn't have a good answer.

* * *

Fairy Tail's land had been subdivided and sold many times since Jellal bought it from Makarov. At this point, years later, all of it was unrecognizable, Magnolia had swelled up around it and changed the landscape. What had once been a tiered building on a large plot of land was now a conglomerate of things from low-income housing to industry several roads over. Factories that not-so-subtly made bullets for Jellal's guns or mills that made wood for the frames of houses Jellal had subsidiary companies build.

There was one building that stood out from the rest. Squat, it took up a small square of land and hadn't been opened in years. "It looks like shit."

"It looks like the kind of place no one will look for you in," Cana replied.

Laxus pursed his lips. One day, he wasn't going to slide beneath the radar. "Thanks, Cana." When he contacted her with a proposition—she bought this land under a pseudonym and told no one that it was for him—he wasn't sure she was going to agree.

"Just remember what we talked about. Any upcoming clean ups you have, they come to me."

"What makes you think I'm going to be so busy, huh?"

"Everyone's going to be busy, darlin'."

And she was just waiting for the heads to roll. "Yeah, you're my go-to." There wasn't anyone better in this city, anyway. Not that Laxus would willingly _tell_ her that. She was already operating under the impression that she was better than everyone else.

"Well." Cana tossed the keys his way and took a step back toward the car she'd arrived in, where a girl with silvery hair waited in the front seat. "If that's everything."

Laxus caught the keys. "Can I ask you something?"

"Long as it isn't work-related. And if it is, you pay."

She was always looking for a way to turn a coin. "Why did you bring the girl, Cana?"

Cana grinned. "I thought maybe you'd be a little less inclined to shoot me if I had her as a witness."

"Ooo," he hissed. "Does Mini-Snow know you put such little value on her life?"

"Cut the crap, Laxus. If you kill me, you'll have to kill her, which I know's not likely to happen, given that you waited until the Constabulary's watch changed for your grand exit so you didn't have to kill Elfman. That says to me you have a little soft spot showing, one named Mira."

"That's a big assumption for you, Cana. I didn't know you were in the business of making them." Laxus' gun felt heavy in his shoulder holster. He eyed Cana's hands and how far they were away from her own weapon. And then there was Lisanna. She was facing him now, the window was down and who knew what she had hidden beneath the car's doorframe.

"Laxus, I don't make assumptions without decent information. But let's say you are really that cold. You're not going to shoot me because then you'll have to kill Gildarts and let's be honest, he'd never just lay down and take one to the chest. He would tear this city apart looking for you and once he found you…"

Laxus knew what waited at the end of that road. He'd had enough of blood for now. "Well, this has been pleasant. Thanks for your help."

"Don't mention it. And hey." All the venom dropped from her voice. "Sorry to hear about Makarov."

"He was dying. A bullet was the nicest thing I could have done for him."

"It's still shit. I know you loved that old man."

Laxus smiled tightly, lest he let any of his façade slip. "See you, Cana."

Cana shook herself. "See you."

She dropped into the car and rolled out. Laxus watched the taillights until she went over a hill and was seen no more. She was going to have to go, he decided, she knew too much. Eileen told him to get out of Magnolia and he hadn't listened. A slip of the tongue and Cana had the power to ruin everything for him. It wasn't a dynamic he enjoyed. Honestly, he wouldn't have involved her at all if it could have been helped but who else could he trust? Meredy was Ultear's and Ultear was Eileen's. Gajeel was dead. The Den was flourishing under Eileen's guiding hand. There wasn't anyone left in this forsaken city he thought had a sympathetic ear.

Laxus opened the door. It screeched on its hinges. He held off on the overhead lights, taking a flashlight out of his pocket. Once it was on, he could see the musty concrete floors he could now call home, littered with wood debris and tools. This was a sawmill before it was decommissioned for the bigger and better one that opened down the street. The air still held the pulpy scent of trees that had come here to meet their end. It smelled nice, reminded Laxus of the cottage Gramps used to have _before._ He breathed in deep, revelling in the memories of sitting on the deck with a bag of Cheetos in hand, watching a younger, more able-bodied Gramps chop through blocks and blocks of firewood with an axe that was so old and battered, the head looked like it was short of parting with the handle.

The old mill had minimal windows and the ones it _did_ have were small and high, making it an easy spot to defend if need be. Perfect, in theory, if you weren't the guy that left the front door unlocked. Laxus turned when he heard it squeak, gun in hand and flashlight aimed high enough to blind the pair of startlingly blue eyes that looked back at him.

Mira squinted and looked away. "Hell."

Laxus lowered the flashlight's beam. "You're a long way from home, Miss Strauss." His heart thundered loudly but his voice was even.

"I could say the same about you."

"And that's where you'd be wrong." He spread his arms wide. "Welcome to Casa Dreyar."

She looked around skeptically. "This is where you're living?"

"Yes, and now that you know, I'm afraid you can never leave."

She pursed her lips and closed the door. "I've heard kidnapping is illegal."

"Who said anything about kidnapping?" Laxus returned. "It's easier just to find a place for you at the bottom of Monnet's."

"Along with Cana and Lisanna."

"That's right."

"You won't."

"Everyone keeps saying that today," Laxus grumbled.

"Did anyone else meet daringly with rogues to smuggle you a gun so you could shoot your way out of a terrible situation?"

Laxus tried not to think of the gun recoiling in his hand and his grandfather's small body falling back. "Sure."

Mira sashayed past him so she could lean against one of the old pillars in the centre of the room and plucked off her crisp white gloves. She didn't look like she belonged in a place like this in her little pink dress and white pillbox hat. She looked good, though, lifting her finger and beckoning him in closer. Laxus went to her, eager for some distraction.

"How did you find me here, huh?"

"I might have followed Lisanna," Mira said sheepishly.

"Really?"

"She's dating a freelance cleaner. I don't want her looking for a career down the same path."

"Some advice," Laxus told her. "If you snoop around on one of Gildarts' job sites, you'll be sunk, too."

"I can protect myself," Mira said, and pulled the handgrip of a pistol out of her pocket. "If I need to."

"You're crazy."

"I love my family." She released the gun so she could lay her palm against the centre of his chest over his heart and looked up at him with those big blues. "Thank you for not hurting Elfman."

"Yeah, well, don't mention it. My reputation's already on the rocks."

"What's so wrong with being a nice guy?" Mira asked.

"Nothing, if it's true."

Coldness slipped into her eyes. "You're right, you did kill three guards and another prisoner."

"Thank you. Some recognition."

Mira relieved herself of the little white clutch she'd arrived with, dropping it right there to the filthy floor. "And you're wanted by the police."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Dangerous character." She took off her coat, giving it the same treatment as her clutch.

"Through and through," Laxus said distractedly. Mira took the topmost button of her shirt and undid it. It was like a cascade effect after that. Laxus saw the top of her belly button well before he figured out his next words. "Do you have a little addiction to danger, Miss Strauss?"

"There are worse things."

Laxus didn't think her brother would agree.

Mira took Laxus' hands and put them on her exposed waist. Her skin was much warmer than the air; her kiss was searing. It was different than the ones she'd given him before. More desperate. "I have a blow-up mattress," Laxus admitted. She should have all the facts before she committed.

"I don't need a mattress, Mister Dreyar." Mira took his belt buckle and undid it. "They're for people in love."

"What an ugly word."

"Agreed," Mira said. "I only need you help me feel."

That he could do.

* * *

It was very, very early when Laxus opened his eyes and focused on something that didn't belong. A pair of shiny black shoes. He'd fallen asleep with his gun in his hand and it was still there. He lifted it and his eyes, dropping the hammer fluidly, and found a vaguely familiar face.

"Good morning, Mister Dreyar," Acnologia rasped.

"Aren't you supposed to be a dead man?"

"Aren't you supposed to be locked up for murder?"

"I got out of life in prison with my natural charm. What'd you do?"

"Faked my son's death and then mine and have been in hiding for the last day waiting for my opportunity," Acnologia said glibly.

"Uh huh. What'd you have to do to get Cana to sell me out?"

"She wasn't incredibly difficult to persuade."

He didn't believe that—Cana was water-tight when she wanted to be. Laxus didn't want to know what Acnologia did to make her talk. "Well, not dead dead man, what do you want?"

"I'm looking for an ally and I'd like it very much if that were you." Acnologia's mouth was set and there was a stubbornness to him. He wasn't joking.

"You know," Laxus mused. "Somehow, that's not the worst offer I've had this week."

* * *

Gray was still awake, laying on his back and watching the moon slip beneath the horizon when his phone started to ring. He almost dropped it when he reached for the bedside table. Through some uncoordinated grace, he was able to snatch it from its cradle and bring it to his ear. He only knocked over the tequila bottle on the way. Its cap was still on, though, so no foul.

"Yeah?" Did his voice sound slurred?

"You've caught a case, Fullbuster." Jura sounded _spry_ for… Gray squinted at his bedside clock.

"Sir," It felt both strange and _right_ to call him sir. "It's four-thirty."

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No, but…" How did he explain he needed to _sleep_ off the hangover and didn't have enough time as is?

"Good. We've got a body thrown off a roof in the industrial district."

"That's the Den's territory." A recent addition, with Jellal gone.

"Get over there and work it, everyone's watching us now."

No pressure. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Jura hung up. Gray took the receiver away from his ear and placed it on his chest. He could hear the dial tone _beep-beep-beeping_ , telling him it was past time he hung up. His mind whirled. Was the body one of the members of the Den or was it one of their victims? Perhaps neither. Could be, it belonged to someone associated with the gang. He thought immediately of Lucy and felt all the tequila curdle in his stomach.

Ultear fumbled for the phone and put it back in its cradle. "Duty calls?" She didn't sound nearly as drunk or as sleepy as Gray did. Nothing kept her up at night, not her morals and certainly not their shared bed.

"Someone was dropped off one of the roofs in the industrial district."

"Tragic." Her sarcasm was heavy.

Gray snorted in disgust and started to untangle himself from the blankets. Ultear pulled him back in and, after a short struggle, left him with a kiss that wasn't nearly sweet enough.

"We taste like tequila."

She grinned. "I love your sweet talk." She kissed him again. And again. And again until Gray forgot that everything was fucked up and focused just on being drunk. Drunk and in bed with a shark. Ultear palmed him shamelessly and kissed him again for good measure. "I'll ask around, see if anyone knows anything."

"I guess that means you decided to take me up on my offer?"

"When I see fit," she said. "If there's something I know that I think you need to know… I'll pass along the message."

"Kind of you."

"You don't like me because I'm nice."

She was right, of course.

* * *

Finito. I had a huge AN for you all, but. Fuck that. Short and sweet.

For those that read

Thanks.

Those that withstood my temper tantrums.

Thanks.

Those that reviewed

Special thanks. You're actually heroes and the world is lucky to have you.


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